


the Aesthetic of Realness

by RavenpuffLove



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alcohol, Bisexual Female Character, Bisexual Ginny Weasley, Bisexual Pansy Parkinson, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Fluff and Smut, HEA, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Harry Potter is Bad at Feelings, Infidelity, Light Angst, Post-War, Strained Relationships, Wedding Planning, between women, but not between the end pairing, everyone has secrets, sapphic love, two of them in fact
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-19
Updated: 2020-06-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:42:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 25,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22805737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RavenpuffLove/pseuds/RavenpuffLove
Summary: When you don't know what you want your wedding to be like, you call Pansy ParkinsonThat's her job: To figure out what you want, and then give it to you.It's not always easy, but she always gets there in the end.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Pansy Parkinson/Ginny Weasley
Comments: 46
Kudos: 110
Collections: Love Fest 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheFairestOfTheRare](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFairestOfTheRare/gifts).



> I'm making it my one woman mission to put more multichapter sapphic content into this fandom. Because I desperately need it, and it might never have started with Pansy if it wasn't for Fairest of the Rare. Thank all y'all for showing me how much I needed to love this character. 
> 
> Thanks so much to OttolineOtter for Betaing this first chapter! She did a wonderful job and I promise you that you'd rather read this version. 
> 
> I of course make no money and claim no ownership of the world or characters.
> 
> #TeamEros #LF2020

“ Miss Parkinson, your two o'clock is here.” said the small, silvery long-eared dog as it bounced into Pansy's office five minutes later than she'd expected it. 

It was a painfully cutesy patronus that perfectly matched the sweet-tempered girl she'd hired to run the front desk. She and Lavender hadn't gotten along particularly well in school but hiring her was one of the best business decisions that Pansy had ever made. The witch might grate on her nerves now and again, but clients were much more receptive to being greeted by a bouncy woman who always answered the floo with a smile on her face than they were to the beautiful but chilly debutantes that Pansy had been raised with.

Of course the front desk attendant served another purpose. The contrast of seeing Lavender surrounded by pristine white marble and bamboo green before coming through to the dark, glossy interior of Pansy's personal office made one thing very clear to clients. The woman they came to contract with was the opposite of the one in the waiting room. 

A bitch. With good taste. 

Still, every time the cavalier king charles spaniel bounded into her office she had to fight the urge to send a scourgify at the spot where it landed, not quite sure that it couldn't leave behind a splash of drool. 

Pansy stowed the witch weekly she'd been reading in her desk and made sure that her garnet silk blouse laid nicely across her chest, trusting in the charm she'd used to affix her matte lipstick firmly to her mouth. Everything accounted for, she thought hard about the night a mermaid had come to the Slytherin common room window and conjured her own patronus, an elegant serval that she absolutely loved, and asked Lavender to send in her two o'clock in. 

The woman who strode through the door was not at all the Ginny Weasley she remembered from school. She recalled brown eyes in a pale face that looked even younger than she was, and legs so long that she'd have looked clumsy if she hadn't been constantly in motion, fidgeting and flirting with her rowdy group of Gryffindors in the great hall. Relying completely on her natural charisma for any attention she got and not seeming to think much of girls who didn't do the same. 

Frankly Pansy rarely noticed the girl at all when she did bother to look in that direction, not with Draco one seat down muttering about how much he hated Potter or Granger or Ginny's older brother. What she remembered was just the leftovers from that inner voice that reduced every other woman around her down to a set of vitals that let Pansy rank their marriage prospects. She hated that voice; it sounded too much like her mother. And if being in the wedding business had taught her anything, it was that who ended up with whom was nearly impossible to predict. 

Of course, she'd seen promotional material from the Holyhead Harpies featuring Ginny since the last time she'd seen her in person, but that Ginny was always in her quidditch gear, frequently dirty and always wind-mussed. It begged a different kind of rundown: goal differential, captaincy potential, injuries sustained; none of which Pansy was particularly interested in. The only other time Pansy had seen her was when Theo and Granger had tied the knot and it was hard to get a handle on someone's aesthetic when you were the one who'd picked out their clothes. 

Though Ginny had looked absolutely divine in the emerald green floor-length velvet bridesmaid's gown, if you asked Pansy.

The Ginny Weasley standing in her office was something else. She was wearing muggle clothing, which Pansy infinitely approved of. It gave them a lot more options when it came to wedding dress styles if a witch could be open to muggle fashions. Her denims were narrow and cuffed at the ankle, revealing a tatty looking pair of red trainers. Her champange-coloured top was large and comfortable-looking, the wide collar nearly hanging off one of her shoulders, and ticked all over with tiny, hazy polkadots. She looked casually elegant, like she'd finally grown into her limbs and stopped trying to prove herself. At least her face was still an absolute riot of freckles, and the hair, that was the same, brassy red and pulled back into a messy ponytail. 

She was gut-wrenchingly pretty but Pansy couldn't let herself dwell on it. The women who came for her services were absolutely off limits.

“ Nice digs, Pansy.” the other woman said with a wide smile, taking in the drastic change from the waiting room. “ This looks more like I would have imagined your office. To be honest, I was a bit worried when I came into that lobby and saw Lavender.” 

“ The lobby is a testament to what most of my clients want from me. Cheery, bright, mostly white. I need them to know I can give them what they are looking for, but if I'm choosing for myself,” she let her voice trail off as she gestured ambiguously at the office around them. The lacquered furniture blended into the glossy black walls, the effect broken only by several pieces of graphic artwork, mostly of Pansy's own creation. The artwork was imbued with magic so that the long-legged, faceless figures could walk in and out of their frames, their sketched outfits billowing around them. “ I look best in darker colors.” 

“ All the black does make your skin glow. I just have to avoid oranges because of the,” Ginny pointed at her coppery hair. “ You know.” 

Pansy liked women who weren't afraid to make fun of themselves. It was easier for her to be around people who wouldn't fuss if she made a self-deprecating joke about her nose or the dark circles under her eyes that she refused to glamour. Maybe working for a Weasley would be less miserable than she had imagined. 

“ Well, since you're here to see me I'm guessing congratulations are in order for you and Mr. Potter?” She began, picking up her favorite glass quill and starting her notes. 

“ Yes,” Ginny said, holding up her hand and wiggling her fingers so that the light from the large window behind the desk glinted off the sharp diamond on her finger. “ We've been shacked up for five years now. I think my mum would have had a conniption if we hadn't announced the engagement by Christmas.” 

_ Interfering mother of the bride _ , Pansy scribbled in her notes. That could quickly become a problem. 

“ When are you hoping to have the ceremony?” Pansy asked, gesturing at the open armchair across her desk. 

“ I think Harry wants to have it near Halloween.” Ginny replied, tucking her feet up underneath her as she settled into the chair. “ That's at the end of the season so I should be able to manage some time off near then without missing games.” 

_ Work is a high priority _ , Pansy added to the list. It wasn't a downside, in her opinion. Hopefully it meant that Ginny wouldn't be tempted to move things around and change the schedule on her a dozen times. 

“ It's a good time of year to get married. Everyone wants a summer wedding because of the flowers, but we are magic; you can have an outdoor wedding in the fall no problem.” 

“ To be honest I don't even know what I want other than I don't want to have it at the Burrow like every other wedding I've been to, except Hermione's.” Ginny looked down at the frayed hem of her denims, suddenly not willing to meet Pansy's eyes. 

_ Guilty about breaking with tradition??? _ Pansy scribbled, pausing after she underlined the question marks for clarity, pen still poised over the page. What was the other witch's sudden discomfort about, more pressure from her mother? Or could it be she was  _ Disinterested in planning? _

“ You'd be shocked by how many brides don't really know what they want,” Pansy offered, leaning back in her chair and sighing internally at the idea of doing another quidditch nut's wedding- generic and boring, complete with sports paraphernalia for a personal touch. Sporty girls seemed to get so uncomfortable with liking anything pretty that they couldn't enjoy their own weddings. It's what she'd been dreading when Ginny made the appointment. She'd hoped that the other woman's attire had been a sign that it wasn't the case. “That's what I'm here for: to figure out what you want and give it to you.” 

“ Thank god you have good taste then.” Ginny said with a chuckle, reaching into her bag and tossing a selection of muggle and wizarding wedding magazines onto the desk. “ I looked through these wedding catalogs and it's all so overwhelming. Nothing in them looks real.” 

Pansy carefully put away the catalog selections she'd been about to pull forward, some of which the other woman had just put in front of her. It didn't seem disinterest in planning was the problem. 

She thumbed through, stopping to review the pages Ginny had tabbed with special attention. The magazines in front of her were fairly comprehensive. There were simple weddings, over the top weddings, every theme under the sun. Usually when a bride brought in something like this she would have added some tabs to the things that really inspired her, but Ginny's tabs all read things like  _ this is obscene _ ,  _ nothing is this perfect _ , or most conclusively  _ No top hats _ . 

“ A top hat can be nice in the right setting,” Pansy said with a grin, tapping that particular note before flipping back to a page with a fairly classic first kiss picture on it. The wizard had the witch bent back just a bit over his arm under an arbour dripping wisteria and ivy, one long sleeve of the witch's robes fluttering in the wind. “ You wrote 'boring' here. What exactly bores you about this.” 

“ The kiss looks fake.” Ginny replied, leaning forward to tap where the two faces joined. “ I don't know why, but nothing about it looks like these are two people in love. It looks like it's someone's idea of what a wedding should look like.” 

The little rant made Pansy think. Ginny wasn't wrong. The pictures in these catalogs were idealized, perfected versions of the moments they were meant to represent. Nothing was out of place. Nothing felt real. For most clients that was a plus. It let them imagine the most romanticized version of what their wedding could be, which gave Pansy something to work with. The wedding business was really the business of bringing fantasy to life, for a limited time only. 

But Ginny was a realist. 

It was obvious looking at her, more obvious when Pansy thought about what she knew about the other woman: Grew up poor, the last of a large litter, Voldemort in her diary first year, first battle in the war when she was a fourth year, bounced from boy to boy before Harry, lead that little revolution during that awful last year at Hogwarts, on track to be captain of the Harpies in the next five years. Everything she knew about Ginny Weasley pointed towards a woman who would have learned a healthy skepticism for storybook endings a long time ago. 

She needed to come up with something real to give her. Something that Ginny would be able to sink her teeth into. 

“ Those photos don't do anything justice, Ginny.” Pansy finally said, setting the magazines to the side. “ Not even the moving ones. You said you'd only been to weddings at your parent's home and you don't want that; I think the best way to figure out what you want is to get you to a few different weddings.” 

“ Neville and Luna are getting married in a few weeks,” Ginny mused. “ Seems like everyone decided to start getting married at the same time.” 

“ I'm not doing that one,” Pansy said, relieved once again to have dodged that bullet when the couple decided at the last minute to make all the arrangements themselves. They were nice enough. Pansy actually liked Neville a great deal, but between his floral desires and Luna's strange ritual requirements, she'd felt truly out of her depth. It certainly promised not to be like any weddings that Ginny had attended at her parents home. “But I am invited. Neville and I are distantly related and his grandmother insisted on sending me an invite. We can meet up during and chat about what you are liking in the moment. That will give me something to work from.” 

“ All right then!” Ginny chirped, jumping up from her seat and handing Pansy a card with her floo information. It was password protected, of course, the savior of the wizarding world couldn't very well leave his fire open for whatever fringe blood supremacists might want to make an example of him. “ I'll just show myself out and let you have the rest of the appointment time to work on those notes you've got going without me looking over your shoulder. No point in me sitting here with nothing to talk about.” 

“ If you're sure? You've got another fifteen minutes?” 

“ I'm sure. I scheduled a lunch with Hermione right after and if I'm a minute late she'll be in a mood. Better to just be early.” 

Merlin, didn't that sound just like Granger. 

Pansy didn't even want to think about that witch's wedding. It had been one of the first she had done for anyone outside of her innermost circle of Slytherin friends, because Theo just had to marry in a Gryffindor bookworm who'd never so much as glanced at a bridal magazine. 

It had been gorgeous in the end; the Nott library was cleared out of all the nasty anti-muggleborn hexes and everything done up in roses and velvet. Theo was decked out in vintage muggle finery, top hat and tails, the whole nine yards; Granger had worn her mother's dress. It was sentimental and vaguely exotic to Pansy at the time, with all the little touches from Hermione's muggle upbringing, but getting there had been taxing. Granger was awfully particular for someone who'd never bothered to make any plans herself.

Pansy thought that Ginny might be the opposite. This was shaping up to be the shortest first meeting that she had ever had.

“ I'll see you at the Longbottom wedding then.” Pansy reminded her, writing down the date herself and giving it the soft swirl and tap that would transfer it into her datebook. 

“ I'll be the one with the hair.” Ginny replied, tossing Pansy a wide grin over her shoulder as she walked through the door.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to CourtingInsanity for her skills and effort in Betaing this chapter! It's much improved for your input! 
> 
> I'm going to try and post every Thursday from now on but with fests coming up please give me some slack! I promise I won't be abandoning this fic and it will be updated regularly!
> 
> In case there was any doubt I don't own this setting or make any money from it this is for fun and practice

A flash of red caught Pansy’s eye as she made her way through the crowd of wedding guests. Who knew Neville and Lovegood knew this many people? The person the hair was attached to was far too tall to be Ginny, but in Pansy’s experience, where went one Weasley so went others. Her instincts didn’t lead her wrong. Ron Weasley was in the middle of a large group and to one side of him stood Potter, an arm around his fiance.

As she reached Ginny, she leaned forward and whispered into her ear. "You really buried the lead with that comment about the hair. "

Her red hair was not as noticeable as Pansy remembered. It looked darker, more severe against her freckled skin. Ginny had either chopped it off or used some kind of temporary vanishment charm to get the long waves off her back instead of pulling it up. It was chic, almost wet looking with the darkened tone, but Pansy found she hoped the mid length bob was just a temporary enchantment. It was an impractical haircut, and she should know; she usually wore her hair the same way. Not short enough to stay out of a witch’s face not long enough to pull into a ponytail. It didn’t feel like Ginny. 

The changes rendered Ginny almost unrecognizable but her dress made her infinitely noticeable. It featured a strange black floral pattern and a large silky bow holding the bodice tight in the back just between Ginny's shoulder blades. When she turned Pansy noticed a sparkling applique that drew the eye down to the deep neckline exposing an elongated v of pale skin. It could have been a truly striking dress with a few tweaks; unfortunately the most striking thing about it unaltered was that it was the most vivid, poisonous looking pink that Pansy had ever laid her eyes on. 

No wonder Ginny had done something to dull the coppery shade of her hair; she already had enough color for the night. 

“I had forgotten what Luna asked me to wear,” Ginny said, giving the vivid skirts a fluff. “ Don't ask me how, because I have no idea how I could forget this thing for even a moment but here we are. Glad you found me regardless.” 

“Luckily you have three other recognizable friends I could assume you'd be with,” Pansy replied, nodding at the tight group that had coalesced as they hiked up the wide trail. 

“Nice to see you too, Pansy,” Potter said warmly. He offered her a hand over a particularly large root in their path, hair sticking up at odd angles as per usual, glasses glinting in the evening sunlight filtering through the canopy. 

Ronald Weasley just raised the flask he was passing off to Theo, who didn't even bother to acknowledge her. They’d been friends too long for Pansy to be offended. Theo just didn’t want the attention drawn to him. 

“I didn't realize you were doing this wedding!” Hermione gushed, sounding rather relieved as she offered Pansy a firm, professional handshake. “I thought it was all Neville and Luna.” 

“It is, actually,” Pansy said, wondering if Hermione had any idea what she was in for, “I'm just a guest tonight. The only work I'm doing here is taking notes about what Ginny here, does and doesn't like.” 

“Well you can officially write down that the bride is not a fan of having to hike half an hour into the woods to get to the location.” Ginny huffed as she set the train of the gown floating behind her with a levitation charm.

“Noted.” Pansy chuckled, infinitely glad that she'd remembered not to wear heels to this particular wedding. 

As they made their way deep into the forest, they were treated to fleeting glimpses of the strange creatures that were responsible for their trek. The far edge of the forbidden forest was home to some of the most magical creatures in Britain, and Lovegood wanted them all to be close as she bound herself to Neville, for the increase in magical energy. The noise of apparition or portkey wouldn’t be conducive to retaining the wildlife. 

Pansy caught a glimpse of a unicorn deep in the foliage, pale and glowing as the sunlight faded and the path was lit solely by will o' the wisp, summoned high up in the boughs above. Something large lumbered deeper in the woods and Pansy shivered as she remembered the massive forms of the acromantulas that had been at the final battle, imminently grateful for the reassuring presence of the Hogwarts gamekeeper a few feet away. She didn't know how, as the man wasn't meant to have a wand, but she was certain that he had a large hand in setting the path and securing the location against the more dangerous elements of the forest. 

The path came to a sudden end in a clearing under cover of a single, gigantic Oak tree. Strange flowers Pansy couldn't even identify hung in clear glass bottles strung from the low branches above their heads, reflecting the multicolored light of the will o' the wisps until the clearing was as bright as midday and the pattern on Pansy’s navy sundress nearly glowed. Bowtruckles scampered over the bark, so many there was no doubt that this was a wand tree, and a huge swath of fabric hung in its branches created a rustic frame for the ceremony. The ground had been rendered acceptably level, and chairs conjured and settled into two neat groupings. 

“We have to sit at the front,” Ginny said as Pansy moved to sit in one of the back rows of chairs. “I'm Luna's bridesmaid; I'm not sure that she fully understands what that means normally but I have to hold her veil once it's been removed.” 

_ Oh, this was going to be fun _ , Pansy thought, smiling broadly as she realized Ginny had no idea what kind of wedding she'd gotten herself involved in. 

Thank goodness Lovegood was too dotty to give the wedding party a proper rundown. 

Pansy settled down to the right of Ginny in the front row, glad that Potter insisted on sitting on the far edge with Ronald, auror training clearly having done nothing to relax him. It meant that she somehow ended up sandwiched between Ginny and Theo, easily the best outcome for the seating arrangements. 

“What do you think?” she whispered to Ginny, pulling a small notebook and muggle pen out of the pocket as she watched the other woman looked around the clearing, eyes wide while the rest of the crowd settled in around them. 

“I think I understand the dress she picked more now. I thought it was just because she likes bright colors but it looks right with all these lights.” 

_ Willing to take aesthetic risks in the proper context  _ Pansy wrote at the top of her notes. 

“I think the only thing I really like is all the flowers. I like that they are contained so it's not swarming in bees or flies and people aren't sneezing. I do miss the smell, but it's still pretty” Ginny continued wistfully, still unable to break her gaze from the beautiful offerings in the tree branches. 

_ Romantic, but practical at heart, _ Pansy added to her notes, slipping it back in her pocket as ethereal music swelled all around them, seeming to come from the lights themselves, 

Old Ollivander made his way into the ceremonial space, long white robes hanging off his thin frame. The groom followed him, barefoot and sporting flowers tucked into his hair and the recently grown beard, barefoot but otherwise dressed in a deep brown cloak which was somehow unrumpled and looked clean despite his rustic hair ornaments. 

“All that is very Neville, but I don't want to see Harry looking like something out of a gardening catalog,” Ginny said under her breath, nothing but fond amusement in her voice. 

Pansy didn't even bother to write it down. It wasn't a surprise that Ginny didn't want to see Harry bedecked in botanicals, even if Pansy did think it was unique, and it would bring out the green in his eyes. 

Neville divested himself of his wand and his outer robe, handing both to Harry and revealing that underneath he was in simple shirtsleeves and denims, like he might wear in the garden. 

As soon as he was uncloaked and Harry had retaken his spot at Ginny's elbow, Professor Sprout made her way down the aisle to the ceremonial space, dressed in the same simple white robes as Ollivander. Pansy smiled warmly as their old Herbology teacher gave a little wave in her general direction, shrugging when Ginny raised a questioning eyebrow at her. 

She'd always liked Professor Sprout. She never seemed to care what house you were in as long as you made an effort in her classes. Pansy always made an effort, even in the subjects she was destined to fail at, and Sprout never seemed to judge her because she didn't like to get her hands dirty. She still kept the few small Muggle succulents that she'd planted and cared for as a project during her seventh year, her own little rebellion when it seemed like the whole world was determined to destroy everything beautiful. Professor Sprout had told the Carrows that they were a variety of mimbulus mimbletonia and they'd never come close to them again. 

The bride wasn't far behind the professor. Her cloak was pale green and pulled up so that it covered her face from the crowd as she walked up the aisle, though from the look on Neville's face he could see her, and he'd never seen anything more beautiful. 

She disrobed as soon as she entered the circle, leaving the cloak pooled on the ground. Stepping out of it, she made her way towards the draped archway and her future husband completely naked except for her long, white-blonde hair, sporting a crown of exotic blooms. Not that Pansy was gawking, because as soon as she’d recovered from the bride loosing her cloak she'd turned her attention to Ginny so that she could enjoy the reaction. 

Ginny didn't disappoint.

Her mouth fell open and her eyes went wide as saucers as they cut over to Pansy, freckles standing out as her face went unnaturally white. Composing herself somewhat, Ginny tread carefully over to the discarded robe and bent to grab it, grasping awkwardly at Luna's outstretched wand before returning to her seat, now splotchy with brilliant red from the tips of her ears down the daring v of her neckline. 

“Merlin's saggy left one, did you know she was going to do that?” she rasped, not quite managing to quiet her outrage to a whisper. “I trust you know that I don't want to be starkers up in front of a hundred people.” 

Pansy wanted to laugh but it caught in her throat as Harry leaned into Ginny and whispered just loud enough for Pansy to hear. 

“For fuck's sake, Ginny! It's our friend's wedding. Can you stop being so fucking judgmental for one fucking minute?” 

Ginny went quiet after that and Pansy didn't quite know what to do with herself. The tension distracted her from the ceremony, though she noted it was beautiful; very traditional as they had their hands knotted together and thin visible strands of their magic joined the cords, wrapping them together for eternity. She never expected that Ginny would just take a man talking to her like that, even if the man was Harry Potter. 

Not that she didn't think Potter had a point; he did. For someone with a reputation for being wild, Ginny had certainly turned prudish the minute Luna had dropped that cloak and revealed her lily-white behind. She wasn't being judgmental of the bride though, Pansy knew first hand that Ginny wouldn't hear a word against Luna Lovegood. She'd learned it on the wrong end of a bat-bogey hex her sixth year at Hogwarts. Ginny was just shocked for a minute, and maybe a little mad at Pansy for not warning her. 

That didn't seem like a good enough reason to be cursing at her. 

After a few moments of tense silence watching the cord tying Potter leaned back over and said: “I'm sorry, I shouldn't have lost my temper. I just want to enjoy the wedding and I've heard you complaining all evening. I know you don't mean anything by it, you're just trying to be funny and talking wedding stuff with Pansy, and it was unfair of me to accuse you of being judgmental. You haven't even said anything rude, I don't know why I took it that way. I won't bring it up again. Forgive me?” 

It was a good apology. Pansy would know. She'd spent a lot of time learning how to give them properly when she'd realized her clients didn't agree with the idea of her being able to do no wrong, no matter how thoroughly she'd been raised to believe it. Potter was sincere. He knew he was in the wrong. He would fix the behavior as best he could. 

Ginny seemed to know that he was sincere too, nodding her head and gripping his hand tightly where it was resting on her knee. 

It was weird to Pansy, to see a fight go that way. No one was totally in the wrong but both actually acknowledged wrong doing. She'd expected Ginny to snap back at him, or for him to turn cold and unresponsive. Then they'd fight for real later, in private if they had any class at all, and make up when they were both too horny to let being mad keep them away from each other anymore. That was how most couples were in her experience. Instead she was treated to watching two people look guiltier than she thought humanly possible. 

“Is she going to want this back or is she going to stay like that all night?” Ginny whispered after a few more moments of awkward silence, shifting the cloak in her lap until it was folded more neatly. 

“It's old fertility magic,” Pansy replied, keeping her voice even and pretending she hadn't just witnessed the tiff between Ginny and Harry. “She stays nude up until after they kiss and their magic fully binds. It would be more powerful if Neville had been willing to strip down too, but he told her he couldn't do it when she first suggested it. The magic is pretty effective on families that aren't so inbred no one can carry to term, though.” 

Ginny nodded, smiling as the couple finally kissed, the cords of magic blazing to life and pulling the couple together into an embrace that gave Pansy the warm, melting feeling in her chest that was the whole reason she became a wedding planner. Love. Real love. Like she'd so rarely seen growing up. Now she saw it all the time, and it was worth the whole fucking mess of the war as far as she was concerned. 

“I bet she's pregnant by the end of the year.” Ginny leaned over as she and Harry stood to walk the cloaks back over to the newlyweds and whispered quietly to Pansy, only the faintest tremor at the corner of her wicked grin. “But I think I'll still be needing to go dress shopping.” 

  
  
  



	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obviously I don't own it, I'm just having fun and practicing my craft and being part of a community!
> 
> Thanks a million to CourtingInsanity for Betaing because she's doing an amazing job. 
> 
> The next chapter should post Thursday after this!

Ginny Weasley seemed to be perpetually late.

Luckily the high-end muggle bridal salon that Pansy took her clients to kept a comfortable waiting area, and they were more than happy to cater to someone who brought in so much business for them. A familiar attendant showed her to one of the more private unoccupied seating areas, just two small sofas caddy-corner to one another and a high table holding delicate china cups and carafes of cucumber and lemon water; nothing likely to stain a dress or somehow make its way to the front of store. The true measure of trust was the tray of delicate digestives laid out with the beverages, the chocolate dangerously dark against the cream and white interior of the salon.

Of course, Pansy was very neat; she liked her grey checkered wool dress too much to be otherwise, but being a witch gave her an edge on the other clientele. Any mistakes she might make with the sweets could usually be righted with a twitch of her wand.

Pansy got settled into her seat and balanced the little plate of biscuits on the arm of the loveseat, pinching one delicately to avoid any melting on her fingers. Keeping an eye on her wristwatch, she pulled out her notes and reviewed as she nibbled.

**Ginevra Weasley**

_ Pre-Tryon Notes _

_ Stick to white. She's pale but she has enough freckles to avoid pushing her towards ivory or cream. White will set off her hair. _

_ Not afraid to show a little skin, but nothing too daring. _

_ Steer towards sleeveless. Less traditional. _

_ Ask about hair before pulling dresses. _

It wasn't much to go on.

Pansy couldn't remember the last time she'd started an appointment with so little information. Ginny wasn't forthcoming about her tastes, and she hadn't been very available. Outside of the Longbottom wedding Pansy had only seen her at the initial appointment and a rushed Floo call to set up this first dress shopping trip.

And now she was late.

Pansy couldn't help but wonder if there was something more to Ginny's scarceness than the simple business of a young professional. She'd worked with plenty of witches dedicated to their work. Hermione Granger was the epitome of professionalism but she'd scheduled in nearly a dozen consultation appointments and had never once been late or showed up without ideas. Not that Pansy remembered that time fondly – she hated being micromanaged – but there was something equally distressing about working from the seat of her pants and with no positive guidance from the bride.

Ginny arrived when Pansy was three cookies into the complimentary plate, approximately fifteen minutes into their allotted hour and a half of shopping time. Pansy watched from her seat in the back of the salon and adjusted her hat while she waited for the staff to guide back her harried client. Ginny looked like she'd just woken up, flame-colored hair pulled up into a messy bun atop her head and wearing a kimono style dress, which looked suspiciously like a neatly transfigured silk bathrobe. She was alone, which was a surprise. Pansy had feared the arrival of the full Weasley compliment or at least half of Ginny's teammates, but she'd expected at least Hermione to tag along to the appointment.

“I'm so sorry I'm late,” Ginny said breathlessly as she reached Pansy's little enclave. “I'd say I have a good reason but I don't. I just overslept.”

“It's nearly noon, Ginny.”

“Believe me, I know, my stomach won't shut up,” she replied, grabbing a biscuit off the plate, the thin brown disc wobbling precariously in her fingertips as she gestured. “Practice ran late last night. I didn't get home until almost two in the morning and then Harry got off shift at four and woke me up when he came in.”

“Well, sit down,” Pansy insisted, crossing her legs and balancing the notepad higher on her kneecap. “We need to go over some things quickly so we can start pulling dresses. We are behind and I want you to get a chance to try on at least a few dresses today.”

“I figured you'd find some things while you were waiting,” Ginny replied apologetically as she perched on the other sofa.

“There are thousands of dresses in this shop, Ginny. And you haven't told me anything about your fashion preferences. It would be very difficult for me to even bring you an overall sample in the time we have today. We need to narrow our focus,” Pansy explained with a sigh.

“Well I'd rather not be naked in front of the crowd,” Ginny muttered around a mouthful of biscuit.

“I think we've established that much.” Pansy grinned at the memory of the other witch's gaping mouth at the Longbottom nuptials. “How modest are you looking to go?”

“I don't know. I honestly don't wear any particular style that often. I like to experiment,” Ginny said after a moment of chewing over the question and the remainder of her biscuit.

“I can see that,” Pansy replied, letting her eyes linger obviously over Ginny's current outfit, enjoying the blush that rose up from the collar and pinked the tips of her client's ears. “Lingerie as day-wear. Daring.”

“That was more a necessity of timing than an experiment.”

“You've been to plenty of formal events since the war.” Pansy moved on with her prepared questions. “Harpies celebratory parties, Ministry balls, weddings, what did you wear to them? What did you like about those outfits?”

“Well, you saw what I wore to Luna and Neville's. It wasn't awful but it wouldn't have been my first pick. I usually wear Harpies gold and green at those events, I've even reworn that dress you picked for Hermione's wedding a couple of times. It was gorgeous.” 

Pansy felt a pleased smile break out over her face as Ginny complimented her choice and grabbed one of the digestives off her plate. It seemed they shared similar tastes in many ways. 

“I wear a lot of blue but I don't want to do that at my wedding. If I'm going with the muggle dress might as well follow their traditions. I don't mind a big skirt but I don't like all the fluffy looking fabrics. I snag them even with charms, can't keep them looking nice.”

Pansy added  _ No organza or tulle _ to her notes.

“If you could describe what you want to look like on your wedding day in one word, what would it be?”

“What kind of question is that?” Ginny answered, her brash laugh ringing through the high-ceilinged room. “I don't know. Classy maybe? What I want is to not look back at my photos and think it looks tacky in twenty years.”

_ Timeless,  _ Pansy added to the list; thank goodness Ginny had been able to come up with something. That would narrow down their options significantly. No silky sheath dresses, even if one would look beautiful on the bride. No puffy sleeves, or massive rosettes. No odd hem lengths.

“What about necklines?” she asked.

“Nothing plunging. I hate all the sticking charms I have to wear to keep from flashing people.”

_ No surprise there _ , Pansy thought, deciding that her modesty guideline covered that request.

“I think that's as much information as I'm going to get out of you without resorting to desperate measures,” Pansy teased as she stood, looking surreptitiously for the staff before slipping her wand out of it's sheath up her sleeve and flicking a quick  _ tergeo  _ over both their fingertips and gesturing Ginny out of her seat. “Are we waiting for anyone else before we get to it?”

“ Oh, no,” Ginny replied quickly, standing up and brushing off any crumbs that might have fallen in her lap. “I didn't tell anyone we were going today. I didn't want Mum to come; she is so sweet but I don't want to disappoint her if I don't pick the one she likes. She's already feeling a bit put-out that I decided not to have it at the Burrow. Hermione would've come but she has so many opinions. It's honestly exhausting. If I wasn't going to bring the two of them it seemed better just to come alone. Otherwise someone would feel left out.”

“Fair enough,” Pansy assured her, secretly glad she would get to spend the time with just Ginny.

There was nothing wrong with the excitement of a large party at an appointment, but Pansy felt on display for once. Ginny had left so much in her hands and she wanted to experience Ginny's joy when she pulled it off without having to manage the expectations of ten other women.

Pansy's favorite attendant was waiting at the desk to wave them through to her preferred fitting room, spacious and with a raised platform before the three gilt edged mirrors at different angles and the back wall a single reflective pane, so that there was no angle a bride couldn't see herself from. The room was otherwise empty but for three chairs, a rolling rack for hanging dresses, and a modesty screen for clients to change behind.

“This is where we are going to be trying on the dresses. That door locks, so don't feel weird about stripping down and getting ready while I'm gone.” Pansy gestured back to the door they'd just come through, the only one in the room. “How good are you with cosmetic charms?”

Ginny put her hand up to her chest in mock offense.

“I'll have you know I'm no slouch, Parkinson. My mum taught me well.”

“Alright. You've already got your hair up which is good, we want your neck visible for the try on. You might want to put on a basic face, nothing too fancy but enough so you won't feel out of place in the dress, trust me it's the details that can ruin the experience. Cast your preferred lifting charm and strip down to your knickers while I'm gone.”

“If I didn't already know how much you liked bossing people around I might assume you were trying to get me naked, Pansy,” Ginny replied.

Pansy had heard Ginny say her name before but she couldn't help the thrill that ran down her spine at the teasing tone and cheeky smile that accompanied it.

“You've caught me, Weasley,” she shot back as she turned to leave. “I got into this business because I have a thing for getting witches in their knickers so I can play dress up with them while I stalk around in a suit and critique them.”

“Kinky,” Ginny called after her, the word catching the ear of a nearby attendant who raised one thinly plucked brow in Pansy's direction.

Pansy's face stayed red all the way down the long hall to the room of racks, where an attendant waved her through into the room that might as well be a vault for how much value it held. They didn't even bother having a sales person accompany her anymore, she knew the stock better than half of them and she didn't need to be monitored. She only ever saw someone if she asked for something specific that was currently out on the floor with another bride to be or she needed help carrying everything back to the fitting room.

Pansy already knew one dress she wanted to pull. It was simple, the line close to the body, a lace overlay with a minimalistic modern pattern that reminded her of waves or scallops. Most brides might find it plain but the detailing at the short sleeves had put it in her mind. Seams tucked in from the underarm towards the neckline to emphasize the straight, elegant line of the shoulders. It was an unusual dress but it would suit Ginny, emphasize the strength of her wiry body instead of diminish it. 

There wasn't anything else that Pansy had in mind, so she roamed the racks for a moment, trying to pull variety. First she found a similar dress, close to the body silhouette in a semi-sheer organza that she saw and couldn't resist despite Ginny's previous complaints; at least there wasn't a large skirt, the only volume was the flare near the hem. Pansy could almost picture the way Ginny's creamy skin would blend into the fabric, her freckles peeking through above the lace appliques. 

Then she dug until she found a truly simple ball gown, the immaculate expanse of fabric broken only by a body shaping seam and a wide band at the dropped waist, giving way to a full white skirt that ended just shy of the floor in a swinging bell.

Pansy let herself back into the room quietly, quickly shutting the door behind her, dress selections held high above her in one hand so that the hems wouldn't brush the floor. She was unsheathing her wand with her one free hand to float her selections over to the rolling rack in the corner when a flash of pale flesh on the dais caught her eye, drawing her focus to the center of the room.

Ginny stood on the dais, naked except for a pair of pale blue lace knickers that barely covered her bum. Her hands were on her hips and she was examining herself in the mirrors, seemingly unaware that Pansy had reentered the room.

Pansy found herself immediately captivated.

It wasn't a surprise that Ginny would be fit, she was a professional athlete after all, but Pansy hadn't truly understood what that would mean. The other woman was as slender as she appeared in clothing, but without the loose folds of the clothes to lend her softness she became a study of angles. Her shoulders were sharp and straight, the hollow of her throat sharply shadowed as she lifted her chin and turned her head. Her small breasts rested gently against her ribcage, the bones almost visible against her pale skin. Yet, she didn't look unhealthy. Her legs were roped with muscle, her thighs touched with a softness the rest of her wiry limbs lacked. Her stomach muscles rippled under the flat skin of her stomach as she moved, one hand shifting to delicately frame the shallow depression of her belly button as she tried to soften her posture.

Pansy realized she was staring when she dropped her handful of dresses straight to the floor as Ginny shifted her weight on her feet, the movement of her hips causing the pale flesh of her arse to jiggle. The clatter of the hangers hitting the floor startled the witch on the platform, causing her to whip around, her arms coming up to cover her breasts, one pale pink areola still peeking above the skin of her freckled hand.

“Warn a witch next time!” Ginny hissed, a flush spreading up her chest and neck to her ears. “I'm not trying to show everyone out in the hall my goods.”

“Don't worry, I shut the door behind me. I just didn't expect you to be standing up on the platform admiring yourself, it startled me,” Pansy said, trying to keep her voice smooth and even past the sudden dryness of her throat. “Most of my clients stay half hidden behind that modesty screen.”

“Sorry,” Ginny said with a brash, throaty laugh. “I'm so used to undressing in front of other women I forget that people might care if I'm naked. Hermione gets terribly tired of seeing my arse.”

Pansy couldn't relate.

“I've got a few here to try,” she managed to croak as she bent to retrieve the fallen garments. “Hopefully we will at least narrow down our focus. I could probably pull three more in the time we have left, but don't feel obligated to pick today. Many brides take more than one trip to decide, even if they try the dress they end up in on the first day.”

“Merlin, I hope I like one well enough to pick it today,” Ginny replied, eyes returning to the examination of her body in the mirror. “I transfigure everything I own within an inch of its life to avoid having to go out and get something new and interesting. I like clothes but I hate going shopping.”

“That's because you don't usually have good company. I'm a vast improvement on Granger in the shopping department.” Pansy hung the dresses and gave each a stiff shake to resettle the delicate folds of fabric, looking each choice over thoroughly. “Let's do the ball gown first. I don't think it's going to be your choice and I like to have a dud first, just so you get used to saying what it is you don't like about a dress.”

“Surely you don't think I have trouble passing judgment after hearing Harry throw a hissy at me,” Ginny replied, lifting her arms straight up as Pansy levitated the bunched gown over her head.

“No, I expect you to be honest,” Pansy assured Ginny, trying to brush aside the awkward topic of the fight she'd witnessed with some modicum of grace. “It's refreshing to work with someone else who's decisive and can speak their mind.”

“Harry would disagree with you on that. He hates hearing me complain, even when I'm joking,” Ginny continued, to Pansy's chagrin. “I thought at first that he just wanted things to go smoothly since the war, but he listens to Ron and Hermione complain about everything, and he has no problem ranting about the ministry. He really just thinks I'm judgy about stuff that doesn't really matter.”

“That sounds awfully familiar,” Pansy mused, tugging up the zip and trying to ignore the heat of Ginny's back as it warmed her knuckles. “I get a lot of that in my business. No one wants to hear me tell them that garter tosses are tacky, but they also want their wedding to exude class. It's as if they think good taste is effortless and any negative feedback will ruin their special day.”

“Glad I wasn't attached to the idea of a garter toss,” Ginny teased, turning to look at the gown in the mirror. “This is very pretty and I like how the waist is so low that it gives me a little more curve in the hips, but you're right. It's not for me. I like simple things normally, but this is almost too plain. The only thing that stands out is that it's white, and the skirt is absolutely enormous. I'd manage to cause a disaster with this thing by knocking something over.”

_ No ball gowns. _

_ Drop waist isn't a deal breaker. _

Pansy quickly added to her notes with a quick tap of her pen before flicking her wand to pull the dress over Ginny's head.

“This one softer–” Pansy paused and rolled her eyes at the suspicious grin Ginny shot her. “Don't give me that look it's not as big as the last one, and I promise you the gauziness won't be a problem. You need to have a chance to look at something less structured, with a little romance.”

Ginny scoffed, one hand finding its way to her cocked hip and the other pointing at Pansy in a way that would have been intimidating if Pansy's hadn't been momentarily distracted by the bounce of Ginny's chest as she moved.

“Fine,” Ginny said, finger wagging as she spoke. “But once I've tried it, and vetoed it, you stop throwing poofy dresses at me.”

“I promise the next one is strictly business,” Pansy said, thinking about how to describe the structured gown still waiting on the rack, that she'd immediately thought of for Ginny. “It's basically an extra long quidditch shirt.”

Ginny raised her arms up again, tapping her foot impatiently as she waited for the levitated dress to fall over her, and for Pansy to do up the buttons in the back.

When Ginny turned to face the mirrors once again she muttered a curse under her breath that Pansy might have missed if she hadn't been standing so close, her face hovering just over the other witch's shoulder.

“It would have been so much more satisfying if you'd been wrong.” Ginny said after a moment of staring at herself in the mirror, twisting to view the soft shifting layers of the dress as they floated around her, almost transparent and sticking close to her body. “This is it.”

“I do have another one for you to try on.” Pansy said wistfully, looking back at the dramatic silhouette of the remaining gown, an emotion she didn't welcome and couldn't quite place twisting her stomach.

“No. I'm done, Pansy,” Ginny whispered. “I feel like a bride.”

  
  
  



	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So glad to be getting back to this story, and to be doing it right as things are heating up! 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter and much love to granger_danger who stepped up to beta at the last second! You have a wonderful eye and you vastly improved this chapter! 
> 
> As always I do not own the characters, I simply use them as a creative outlet and to practice writing.

“So, wedding number two,” a familiar teasing voice said, coming from one of the pews Pansy had transfigured out of the dining tables that normally filled the Leaky Cauldron. 

“Number three if you count Hermione and Theo's,” Pansy replied, not really bothering to look up at Ginny as she looked at the checklist on her clipboard past the faded script of completed duties to her next task. 

**Johnson/Chang Day-of To-Do**

  1. _Bridal parties separated into separate dressing rooms upstairs, privacy wards set._
  2. _Ministry officiant double checked._
  3. _Johnson family and hairdresser granted entrance to the pub._
  4. _All dresses delivered to correct bridal parties._
  5. _Hired elves arrived and working in the kitchen_
  6. _Temporary expansion charm placed on dining space, accounting for extra vertical space._
  7. _Pews transfigured and configured for ceremony._
  8. _Arch and altar assembled, including goblets and decanter of ceremonial wine._
  9. _Flowers placed and bouquets delivered._
  10. _Broom suspended, none out of my reach._
  11. _Usher at the guestbook._
  12. _Kitchen progress check._
  13. _10 minute runaway bride check._
  14. _Ministry officiant stationed._
  15. _First music cue, light dim._
  16. _Angelina to head of stairs._
  17. **Second music cue, Angelina down the aisle, Cho to the head of stairs.**
  18. **Third music cue, Cho down the aisle.**
  19. **Fourth music cue, spark shower.**
  20. **Receiving line at refreshment table, stack pews to clear floor.**
  21. **Enjoy the rest of the party unless there's a disaster.**



She had a minute to chat. Angelina was at the head of the stairs, she could see her out of the corner of her eye, and the glowing cue countdown said she had ninety seconds til she needed to get the first bride's aisle music playing. 

“Why are you all the way at the back?” Pansy asked Ginny, seeing that her client had placed herself in the seat next to the one she'd saved for herself on the outside edge of one back row. Her brother Ronald and Potter were seated just past her. “You'd have a better view further forward.” 

“I figured this is where you'd be if you were working and I wanted to be able to talk to you. If it's as shocking as the last wedding we attended, I will have strong opinions.” 

“ You might find yourself wishing one of the brides would strip down to the buff by the end of this one,” Pansy mumbled as she watched the last few digits tick down on her timing charm. “It isn't going to be groundbreaking.” 

Pansy lifted her arm and gave her wand the sharp jolt that would begin the music. She watched the head of the stairs as Johnson made her way down, making sure to give her wand a sharp flick to mark off Cho’s placement as the other witch took up her post to wait her cue. 

The piece of music was beautiful, a muggle favorite that she'd become increasingly familiar with. This was the version she preferred, a piano and violin in duet, their pacing not slowed down or sped up unnecessarily. It worked particularly well for this wedding, where both members of the couple would be walking the aisle. Halfway through the piece the violin briefly dropped, one elongated note ringing out for a moment before returning with a quick burst of happy, bright-sounding notes. Pansy had hired musicians to record the parts separately, and had the pianist add in a few quiet, extra notes in the middle so that she could layer her ambient music charms. She had staged her cues just so; when she reached that brief lull in the violins, that thread of music would drop for exactly five seconds before she obeyed the next cue, reuniting the violins as the piano resumed the tune. That break would let the rise of the violins cue Cho to begin her walk. 

Angelina was absolutely dripping lace as she walked down the aisle, a side slit revealing glimpses of her long, dark legs. Pansy thought that her dress might be the most exciting thing about the wedding. She enjoyed watching the witch walk to the altar. Her braids were coiled into an elaborate style on top of her head and her short train led the eye enticingly up the long line of her body as she walked with a purposeful confidence that made Pansy smile. 

She reached the altar exactly when she should, the violins just beginning to trail away, leaving Pansy just long enough to check to make sure Cho was waiting at the head of the stairs before she gave her wand another jolt. She smiled as the violins rose, bright happy notes speeding by and calling the remaining bride forward. Pansy couldn't say she cared for their Quidditch theme, for the raucous party they'd planned for after, but they'd left the ceremony mostly to her and she was pleased to see the symmetry as it fell into place. 

Cho followed after Angelina, her stark white dress reminding Pansy intensely of the one that she'd tried to get Ginny to try on. The boat neckline emphasized the slender woman's strong shoulders, the skirt billowing out from the waist in a soft bell. She looked beautiful next to her bride at the altar, a sheer veil revealing joyful pink cheeks and brown eyes shining with happy tears. 

Once both the brides were at the altar, Pansy dropped into an empty chair at the back to rest for a few minutes. It was the first time she'd sat down all day and she almost groaned as her bum hit the seat, her tired feet grateful for the break. 

“That rough?” Ginny asked quietly, bumping her shoulder companionably.

“Cushioning charms only take you so far. I've been up and running since six am.” 

“This seems pretty simple.” Ginny's tone implied that the word she meant wasn't _simple_ , so much as it was _boring._ “Did it really take all that work?” 

“You'd be surprised,” Pansy replied, not really offended at Ginny’s dismissive tone. People didn't realize how much work went into a wedding on the day-of until they'd done it themselves. “Weddings are hard work to make run smoothly, even simple ones. But most of it was spellwork. This place needed a lot of transfiguration and charm work to be ready for the ceremony. Sometimes I have Lavender as an extra hand for that kind of thing, but she's off today so it was all on me, and Quidditch themes can get tricky. They say the brooms are supposedly for decoration but I think you know as well as I do that half of these guests are going to insist on trying to fly one during the reception. I'm certain that was Angelina's intent when she suggested they be flyable. It wasn't subtle.” 

“They're flyable?” Harry leaned forward and whispered, proving her point. His interest was obviously peaked.

“Every single one. I'll announce it when the ceremony ends so that people don't try to sneak them out. It's better if they just fly them here,” Pansy replied, nodding towards the front to draw their attention to the ceremony, which was quickly drawing to its close. 

“You've both pledged your fidelity and promised your effort through your lives, however long they may be,” the officiant droned, finishing the Ministry standard ceremony with no extra frills. “Now, seal your bond with a kiss.” 

Angelina had to bend forward for their kiss, reaching out to tilt Cho's face up, cradling her jaw gently. 

Pansy had seen at least a hundred first kisses at this point. She found they all fell into three categories: passionate, perfunctory, or pleased. Most crowds seemed to prefer the passionate ones, hooting at the happy new couple and elbowing each other to tease about the wedding night. Pansy couldn't help but disagree. 

There wasn't much passion in this kiss. It was gentle and reserved. Their mouths didn't linger. No one's tongue snuck past the confines of their lips. Hands didn't wander farther south and no one was swept off their feet. But there was a gentle happiness that radiated from them as they came together. Cho's cheeks went prettily pink and the corners of Angelina's lips were turned up, her smile unmistakable even from the back row. They looked quietly pleased as their kiss sealed the bond begun by the officiant, suffusing them with a warm glow. 

Pansy thought that was just lovely. 

Almost before the officiant could finish saying, “The bond is sealed!” Angelina turned to the crowd with a wide grin and shouted, “I just got married! Let's party!” 

Cho accented the proclamation by tossing her bouquet, avoiding the traditional scramble for the flowers by unsheathing her wand and shooting a quick spell at the falling arrangement. Her magic sent the dozen or so golden snitches hiding in the bouquet flying as Pansy jabbed her wand at the ceiling again, starting a thumping, celebratory beat. The brides ran down the aisle past the crowd, who showered them with wand sparks as they passed. Once they were through, Pansy grudgingly got to her feet and placed the tip of her wand against the center of her throat, murmuring, “ _Sonorous.”_

“Leave the snitches to flit for a bit, everyone! The brides are heading to the back of the pub for the receiving line where you can also pick up some cake. Once everyone has gotten a chance to wish the happy couple well, anyone who doesn't want to play Quidditch, dance, or drink is advised to head out for the evening!” Pansy announced, grateful that the spell meant she didn't have to shout over the cheering crowd. 

“Go ahead and congratulate the happy couple,” she said to Ginny after canceling the _Sonorous_. “I've got to clear a dance floor while people are doing the receiving line and I won't be able to talk.” 

Pansy carefully levitated and stacked the pews behind the empty bar while the receiving line moved and cupcakes were distributed. Pansy smiled as the older generation looked up ruefully at the suspended brooms and the snitches glinting around in the dim pub lighting. None of them would be around long. It was a wedding for young people, probably the most popular kind of wedding she planned. 

She was growing to hate these weddings. It was the same thing over and over again with no romance to bring it to life. At least Angelina and Cho seemed to _like_ each other. The worst of these she had thrown so far had been for Susan Bones and Ernie MacMillan. It seemed like they had just decided to get married because everyone else was pairing off and they didn't want to be left alone. 

Pansy would _Avada_ herself before she did that. Being alone certainly wasn't any worse than spending the rest of your life looking at someone whose face you grew to hate or going through marriages like knickers. 

Once the pews were all stacked, Pansy made a beeline for her favorite resting spot in the Leaky. As far as she was concerned, the little alcove under the stairs, where she was hidden from the action but able to observe it through the slats of the steps, made the old pub the perfect venue. She'd take a few minutes, maybe half an hour, to rest and disengage and then she'd head out to the dance floor herself. She might not care for a marriage of convenience, but it was the ideal quality for a distraction of the night. 

She knew Padma was here and, as far as she knew, the icier of the Patil twins was still single. She and Pansy always had a good time together, and she certainly wouldn't say no to one of the long perfumed baths the other woman always insisted on to relax them both beforehand. There was also Oliver Wood. . . he'd be a risk. Athletic blokes could be fun, but their enthusiasm could negatively affect their stamina. 

“Budge up.” Ginny's voice startled her out of her reverie as the other witch suddenly appeared, trying awkwardly to settle herself next to Pansy in the little space under the stairs with a modicum of modesty, her long legs tucked up beside her and one of two bottles of champagne arranged artfully between any possible glimpse of her knickers and the room at large. “I brought bubbly and cupcakes.”

Pansy took a moment to appreciate Ginny's aesthetic for the night. Her bronze dress was skin tight, its layered, woven pattern almost resembling scales. One arm and shoulder were left completely bare while the other was fully sleeved. Her bright hair was teased and voluminous, swinging wildly about her shoulders except the one thick braid tucked decoratively behind her ear. 

Pansy thought they must look nice sitting together; her green satin pantsuit would look touchably soft next to Ginny's ensemble. A study in shine and shadow. 

“What are you doing slumming it with the help, Ginny?” Pansy said with a laugh, shaking off the fixation that overcame her as she got an up-close look at the freckles on her client’s shoulder. “I figured you'd be off flying with your fiance. This wedding seemed right up your alley: classic ceremony, wild reception. Ready to book me for a replica?” 

“Absolutely not!” Ginny said, rolling her eyes exaggeratedly. “No offense. It's a great party, but I don't want this. It's exactly like it is out at the Burrow when someone ties the knot in the garden, except a little more claustrophobic. Don't get me wrong, I love flying. I just don't want to spend my wedding day doing what I do for a living.” 

“Merlin, am I glad you said that.” Pansy took a swig straight from the bottle, almost instantly feeling a pleasant buzz as the drink settled into her empty stomach. “This is my least favorite kind of wedding to plan.” 

“I can see why,” Ginny replied, looking out at the party through the slats of the stairs, the music kicking into full swing as people started to charm down the brooms. “It doesn't really feel like a wedding now that the ceremony is over.” 

"It's basically a wedding for people who hate weddings; a party to wash the taste of the ceremony out of their mouths.” Pansy licked a swipe of buttercream off the tip of her finger, trying not to taint the taste with her lipstick. 

“You know what it feels like?” 

“Do tell.” 

“It feels exactly like a party in the Gryffindor common room after a Quidditch match.” 

“I think that was about the sentiment they wanted,” Pansy confirmed. “Cho wanted to just go to the Ministry and get it taken care of with a couple of witnesses. The only thing she really wanted was for them to be dressed nicely and to have a few photos taken. Angelina insisted on the party.” 

“Angelina is good for Cho, I think.” Ginny said wistfully, watching Angelina help her bride onto her broom so that her skirts laid demurely. “Definitely better than I was.” 

“Come again?” Pansy said, almost choking on a bite of chocolate cake as her eyes went wide.

“We snuck around for a few weeks at Hogwarts, my fifth year,” she replied casually, clearly not noticing Pansy's state of shock. “Before Harry obviously.” 

“I didn't realize you went for witches, and I thought I had a fairly accurate catalog of all the girls who did when I was at Hogwarts.” 

“I bet you did,” Ginny said, with a knowing look that said she was fully aware that Pansy had made her way through everyone at Hogwarts who'd shown even the slightest interest whenever she wasn't occupied with Draco. She'd kept things casual enough with him that she had plenty of time for her conquests. “I didn't get much of a chance to explore before Harry. Cho was the first and I think I went for her half because I wanted to know what the hell Harry saw in her, beyond the fact that she's obviously stunning. I never did figure it out to be honest. She's one of the nicest girls I've ever met, but she's too quiet for me. She always wanted to just stroll around the castle holding hands, or sneak off to fly together on the pitch when we weren't fooling around. We didn't have anything to talk about. I need to be able to talk." Ginny's face turned almost regretful as she reminisced. It was a terribly familiar expression and Pansy wondered if the other witch hadn't been the kindest when she ended things with Cho. "And frankly she wasn't my cup of tea in bed either. Too long with the snogging and foreplay. I'm impatient and I've got no desire to spend twenty minutes with someone's tongue in my ear.” 

Pansy couldn't relate.

“Nothing wrong with a little teasing.” 

“Oh I wholeheartedly agree,” Ginny said with a wicked grin. “As long as I'm the one doing the teasing.” 

Pansy felt a sudden fluttering in her cunt, dangerous anticipation of something that wasn't coming. 

“So witches just didn't do it for you?” she asked, hoping to get her mind back on the right track. Ginny wasn't even interested in witches, this was just a bit of girl talk. For Merlin's sake, Pansy was planning the woman's wedding to her Hogwarts sweetheart.

“More that Cho didn't do it for me. Astoria Greengrass was more my speed.”

They had history in common, it seemed. Pansy remembered Astoria fondly; they'd spent several nights tucked away in the quiet emerald tinted enclave of Slytherin dorm standard four poster curtains. Pansy had been enamored of her already-womanly curves and they way she smiled when Pansy planted kisses in the soft creases between her cunt and her thighs. She was warm and funny and her lips tasted constantly of peaches except the one night Pansy had been invited into bed with her and Draco both. Then she'd tasted of Draco.

“Astoria's lovely.” 

“Okay, okay,” Ginny raised one pale brow and her face turned a splotchy kind of red that Pansy wished she could say was unbecoming. “I've accidentally revealed my awkward fling with Harry's first crush, he doesn't even know about Cho. You've got to tell me something embarrassing to even up the score.” 

“That doesn't sound very strategic for me,” Pansy replied cooly, internally combing her brain for an interesting story that might one-up Ginny's. “I could keep that tidbit to hold over your head in case you insist on pairing mustard yellow and grey for your bridesmaids’ dresses.” 

“Have a little faith, Pansy.” Ginny raised one hand to her chest and let her mouth gape in mock outrage at the implied insult to her taste. “Surely you've got a few embarrassing skeletons in your extensive closet.” 

“I'll have you know I've never slept with someone I regret,” Pansy said, feeling a little thrill of joy at knowing it was the absolute truth. “But I can tell you someone who probably regrets me.” 

“That's equally good blackmail material. Out with it!” Ginny was almost dancing she wiggled so much in her excitement, a splash of champagne bouncing out onto her bare knee.

“Your older brother, Percy. In his office after this stuffy Ministry banquet I helped plan, back before I went strictly into the wedding business,” Pansy revealed, giggling at the way Ginny's face fell from pure anticipation to exaggerated revulsion. 

“Percy! Really?” she teased. “And I thought Cho was boring.” 

“Boring is definitely not the word I'd use,” Pansy replied, feeling heat creep up her neck as she remembered Percy's eyes, dark with desire as he'd had her crawl across the floor towards him before bending her over his desk. 

“Oh, Merlin, stop!” Ginny said as she giggled, pressing her palms over her ears. “I do not need the details. Your face right now is bad enough!” 

Pansy didn't doubt that. It hadn't been only the one time between them, but she wasn't going to admit that to his sister either. She'd also had a go at Ronald once after a wedding, though she didn't remember much about it, she'd been pretty pissed. She mostly remembered how annoyed he seemed to be that Potter and Ginny were going at one another in a corner and that she'd thought it was rather hypocritical that he'd dragged her into a coat closet at the first hint of interest. Now that she was thinking about it and looking at the way the light filtered through Ginny's halo of red hair she wondered if she just didn't have a thing for redheads.

“You're still thinking about him, I can see it on your face!” Ginny said, shoving Pansy's shoulder and giggling so hard she was almost doubled over. “Knock it off!” 

“It's a really good memory and I'm not interested in watching people chasing that one remaining snitch.” Pansy had the good grace not to tell the other witch she was actually thinking about the Weasleys in general. It seemed tacky. “You'll have to give me something better to think about.” 

Pansy couldn't have possibly expected that Ginny's response to her teasing would be to rise up on her knees and press their lips together. 

Ginny's lips were sticky with cheap champagne and cupcake frosting, the taste sweet and tangy. Pansy gasped as the other woman's tongue traced the seam of her lips, feeling like the soft, slick tip had touched something more hidden and intimate than her crimson-lacquered lip. Ginny lingered, shifting to her knees and bringing one hand to cradle the sharp line of Pansy's jaw, and suddenly Pansy was kissing her back. Pansy pulled Ginny's bottom lip between her teeth and nipped, warmth suffusing her limbs with the tiny pleased sound the other witch breathed into her mouth. 

She shouldn't have been kidding her back. The part of her mind that sounded like her mother was screaming at her to end it, to lean back and break the contact before someone thought to come looking and they were caught. Yes, that judgmental, sensible part of her brain was still fully aware, but it was drowned out by the rushing thrum of her heartbeat in her throat and the delicate brush of Ginny's thumb in the hollow under her cheekbone. 

“Pansy,” a familiar, masculine voice said, pulling her back from the moment. “I think I need to get my fiance home.” 

Her heart plummeted into her stomach as her eyes focused on Ginny's rapidly retreating face, Pansy's lipstick smeared artfully on her mouth. 

“Hullo, Harry,” Ginny said, ears bright red, her brown eyes locked onto Pansy's for a long moment before turning to her future husband with an apologetic smile. “Yeah I think you'd better.” 

“Sorry about running off and leaving her with you, Pansy,” Potter said with a shy smile, hand running through his messy hair. “Gin gets handsy when she's had a bit to drink. Ended up like this with Neville last year on Halloween when I got caught up playing chess with Ron. She doesn't mean anything by it.” 

“Sure,” Pansy said, hoping her voice sounded crisp and professional, as though she thought it was completely normal for a soon-to-be-married woman to be falling mouth first onto party guests who weren't her fiance every time she had too much to drink. “I'll see you at the Malfoy vow renewal, Ginny.” 

“I'll make her promise to stay out of the champagne that night,” Harry said teasingly, hitching an arm under the other witch's arms and half-supporting her as they walked away. 

And almost as suddenly as she had appeared in the shadowed alcove, Ginny was gone, leaving only Pansy's smeared lipstick and a mostly empty bottle of champagne to prove she'd ever been there. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks a million to granger_danger for the hard work put in on this chapter! It's so much better after your beta!

Ginny sent an owl with an apology note the next morning. 

_ Merlin, I don't even know what to say.  _

_ I'm sorry doesn't seem like enough, but I am.  _

_ I don't want you to think that I'm just not being faithful to Harry. I had trouble committing after the war and he never blamed me. He thinks I'm testing him or something, because he left me behind when he went hunting Horcruxes. I just like the thrill, if I'm honest, but the point is he really doesn't care as long as it stops at kissing, or I mean he does care but only in that he doesn't want me making other people uncomfortable.  _

_ He says I have to offer to break off the contract no hard feelings if you want to. I told him it wasn't like that, you were flirting with me too, but after that time with Neville he said I think everyone is flirting with me. But Neville has even said he was flirting, he just didn't intend to kiss me. One misread signal doesn't make me some sort of drunken menace!  _

_ Now I’m rambling and you don’t need to hear any more of me and Harry’s squabbling than you already have. _

_ Just know that I know my behavior was unprofessional and uncomfortable, and if you don't want to keep working with me the deposit is yours and we will happily give you good references for all the personal time you've put in.  _

_ Ginny Weasley _

Pansy didn't even know what to say to that, but she wasn't going to bow out of planning the most anticipated wedding in the wizarding world, so she simply replied: 

_ Meet me in my office at half-past six next Friday to floo over to the Malfoy Vow Renewal.  _

But, despite her busy schedule, Pansy couldn't shake the sense of dread that had settled over her. Even when the night of the vow renewal finally rolled around, one train of thought was constantly running through her mind as she readied herself for the event:

There was something deeply wrong between the future Mr. and Mrs. Potter. 

It wasn't even the extracurricular kissing; that Pansy could understand. There were plenty of couples who didn't mind a little playing outside the relationship, and Pansy didn't think it was her business to judge anyone on their preferences. But she had seen the look in Potter's eyes when he'd caught Ginny with her, and they'd been full of bitter annoyance, bordering on exhaustion. He'd looked the same way at the Longbottom wedding when he'd snapped at Ginny for her criticism of their mutual friend. And the fact that he had pressured Ginny to offer Pansy what amounted to hush money spoke to a deeper level of embarrassment. No matter what his fiancée insisted, Harry Potter was unhappy.

And Ginny didn't seem much happier. 

As Pansy rubbed amber scented lotion into her arms she pondered the last evening she’d spent with Ginny, trying to figure out how they'd ended up trading secrets and snogging under the stairs. 

Pansy didn't have many friends; It wasn't something she was ashamed of, she was just the kind of person who tended to have a few close friends and a wide circle of acquaintances. So she hadn't recognized that it was happening, but she could see now that she was becoming friends with Ginny. She was easy to talk to and Pansy found that she liked the other witch's cutting humor and the way she seemed to feel and express every mood with intensity. Ginny didn't hold anything back, it was refreshing.

In fact, when she thought about their chats, Ginny had revealed more than Pansy had realized. Over and over again. 

' _ I think my mum would have had a conniption if we hadn't announced the engagement by Christmas. _ '

' _ But he listens to Ron and Hermione complain about everything. _ '

and now 

' _ I just like the thrill if I'm honest. _ '

No, Ginny Weasley wasn't happy. She was pressured and bitter and restless. Pansy recognized that particular brand of desperation intimately. She’d felt it herself when she had still been trying to conform to her parents’ expectations. Remembering it, she felt uniquely grateful for the chic, modern setting of her office. Pansy couldn’t feel trapped in old-fashioned sensibilities here, with her work surrounding her while she applied her favorite Muggle lipstick. 

She was fairly certain the other witch was only marrying Potter because it felt like the next thing she was supposed to do, but the 'why' of nuptials wasn't supposed to be her business. No two couples were alike and there were plenty of reasons to get married besides passionate romantic love — the event she was attending that evening was proof enough of that. But it also was a celebration of the hope that, if you were lucky, love came with time, no matter the beginnings. Pansy wasn't sure that was where the future Potters were headed. 

Pansy tried her best to put her suspicions from her mind for a moment as she put on a few rings as a final touch to her ensemble and focused on the matter at hand. Tonight she had to convince Ginny Weasley that if she was going to marry the savior of the Wizarding world, she had to do it with good taste. She would be here any moment, judging by the clacking sound of heels on the marble floors in the entryway. Pansy gave her hair one last shake to settle it around her face with some volume and turned to face the open door. 

Ginny was the picture of elegance. 

Her fiery hair was pulled back simply, with a few wisps floating freely near her face. Her pale skin glowed, her long neck and bare shoulders framed by the neckline of her deep green gown. Every inch of the garment was adorned with emerald-colored crystals in intricate patterns that belied the risque semi-sheer folds of fabric of the narrow skirt and sleeves. Her face was bare but for the sweep of her lashes, so thick and dark that the gold-green flecks in her eyes almost glittered in contrast. 

“Did I do well?” Ginny asked, giving a twirl that made her gown float out slightly from her body, the light from the waiting floo briefly illuminating the shape of her legs as it shone through the sheer fabric. “You didn't give me a dress code. I assumed formal, considering the hosts.” 

“Good instincts.”

“You look lovely.” Ginny remarked, giving Pansy a once over that made a tingle run up her spine. “Right sexy, actually.” 

“Thanks.”

Pansy had every confidence it was. She and Narcissa had been shopping together for years, but it had taken months before Narcissa was comfortable leaving Lucius truly alone after he came home from Azkaban. The dress Pansy would wear to her and Lucius’s vow renewal had finally been enough temptation to draw her out, and the older witch had months of pent up opinions to give. 

Pansy loved taking Narcissa out to the Muggle side of London, to the outrageously niche boutiques. All part of the reform process, learning to enjoy the benefits of the Muggle world, like the variety. Narcissa had found the dress and insisted Pansy try it on. Sleeveless and gathered neatly in the middle to show her shape, the long black gown sported a neckline that was cut all the way down to her waist in a narrow V, the flesh obscured by a panel of lace that ended in a banded collar around her neck. 

Narcissa had been sure the dress would ensure Pansy found “the one” by the end of the night. She'd been even happier when Pansy had said she was bringing a friend as her plus one — no competition for her matchmaking. 

“We should head out,” Pansy said, trying to compose herself as she tucked her wand away in a hidden pocket in the loosely draped fabric at her hip.“I can't be late and you can't get in without me.” 

“Lead on.” 

Pansy tossed the charmed invitation into the floo and the flames turned vibrant green. As soon as they stepped into the hearth, they were transported to the enormous floo in Malfoy Manor's foyer. Pansy was pleased. The cavernous room had been opened up to the smallest ballroom just as she'd specified. The charmwork connecting the two rooms was seamless — you'd never know that the two rooms were across the house from one another. 

Lavender was stationed in the corner of the foyer, watching as the guests arrived and checking them off her list, not that there was any chance of someone who wasn't supposed to be there sneaking in through the Malfoy's wards. Still, it was good to see her there, on duty, just as a reminder that Pansy wasn't on the clock tonight beyond showing Ginny a good time and trying to persuade her to have the most expensive and tasteful wedding possible. 

The small ballroom had more going for it than the intimate sizing. The sparingly gilded pale blue wallpaper visible between the ubiquitous white marble columns reflected light around the room, making the minimal candelabras placed along the length of the long banquet table more than adequate lighting. It left the room feeling warm and light in a way that shouldn't have been possible in the forbidding atmosphere of the Manor. 

They were far from the first to arrive. Guests milled about the table near their assigned seats. It was an intimate affair for the Malfoys, maybe fifty settings total. Mostly the guests were their few remaining friends who were not still locked away in Azkaban for their crimes. Pansy's parents were among them, along with the Greengrass family and Professor Slughorn. The rest of the room was filled out with young people. Narcissa Malfoy had taken a special interest in the students leaving Slytherin house after the war, so many of whom had lost their parents to the war through death or incarceration. It was as if she had made it her one woman mission to prevent this generation from making the same mistakes that she and her husband had. 

Looking around at all her former classmates decked out in their family finery, Pansy couldn't help but wonder how many of them had received the same speech she had from a wan looking Mrs. Malfoy after the war:

_ “You might feel as if you've lost something, as if someone has taken away your power, but I can tell you there is nothing so powerful as the ability to choose to change. That which doesn't adapt, dies. You've been offered the option to do the former. That is chance is a gift and I suggest you take it.” _

Pansy hadn't needed the encouragement, but her ready agreement had led to a friendship she treasured. 

“Pansy, this is gorgeous,” Ginny whispered, eyes wide as she took in the high ceilings and Goblin-wrought fixtures as they made their way towards their assigned seats.

“I can't really take the credit. The Manor is an exquisite venue. It hardly needs dressing. But we could create a similar feeling in any sufficiently grand room.” 

“I don't know. I'm truly impressed, and it's not as if we are hard up for Galleons. With Harry's family fortune and what his Godfather left him combined with my salary from the Harpies we are well set. But. . .” Her voice trailed off as she caught sight of the powder blue roses twining along the candelabra centerpieces, tended by the tiny glittering bodies of fairies. 

Pansy could hazard a guess at what was bothering the other witch. 

“It just doesn't feel right?” 

“Yeah,” Ginny admitted. “I would feel like I was playing pretend in a place like this. It already feels like I'm in some sort of fairytale, and I'm just here to eat dinner.” 

“I understand that. I've always felt like that when I came here, even as a little girl.” Pansy steered them towards their seats, avoiding the questioning stares from her closest friends. They were milling around Theo's seat midway down the table, clearly consoling his whiny mood at having to attend an event without his wife — not that he should have expected Granger to set foot in the Manor again after what befell her on her only visit. “Like I'd stumbled into a story I didn't belong in. Try not to focus on the grandness though.” She leaned in close to keep her voice low and intimate as she made her pitch. “Focus on the other details: the intimate lighting; the metallic accents that reflect it; the long table instead of separate tables or a ceremonial space.” Their seats were close to the head of the table, just a step down from the family, Astoria's place card just to Pansy's right. They settled in, neatly arranging their skirts as the charmed chairs scooted them into the table. “You keep saying what you want is real, and as elaborate as the Malfoys’ aesthetic taste is, if you look, what you are going to find is realness.” 

Almost as soon as Pansy finished talking the lights dimmed for a brief moment, signaling the guests to find their seats if they hadn't already. She almost winced as she remembered who Ginny was going to be sitting next to. For once, Pansy had brought a guest, so Narcissa had just pushed her usual left hand companion one seat down. 

“Fancy seeing you on Pansy's arm, Weasley,” Blaise said with the smile Pansy knew he normally saved for Muggle girls who didn't know his last name. “I was under the impression you and Potter were still going strong.” 

“Oh we are,” Ginny replied coolly, not taking his bait. “I'm a client. Pansy was kind enough to bring me along as her plus one so I could have a look at the event.”

“Well, that's lucky for me. Pansy's always my first dance and I'd hate to have to find someone else.” 

“Only your first dance?” Ginny asked, raising one brow skeptically and darting her eyes back towards Pansy so that she caught a glimpse of the amusement that glittered there. 

“I've been trying to keep her all to myself for years now, but she won't have it.” 

“That's because you're a terrible flirt, Blaise,” Pansy drawled, turning her head towards the stairs beyond the end of the table, where Narcissa had just appeared at the top, hand tucked delicately into the crook of Lucius's elbow. “Stop distracting Ginny.” 

Narcissa looked beautiful. Her cornflower blue dress would have been too simple if it hadn't been for the way the matte finish left her relieved in silhouette in the reflective room, her pale skin and hair shining in contrast. Jewels sparkled heavily at her neck and wrists, dripping from her ears, the same blue as her dress gleaming at the center of each piece and flanked all around by glittering diamonds. Pansy was proud. It was a thoroughly Muggle look adapted for the Malfoys’ world. The magical inner fire of the stones in her jewelry drew the eye, contrasting beautifully against the deep blue of Lucius’s suit, tailored impeccably to his thin post-Azkaban frame. 

Lucius couldn't keep his eyes off his wife.

At the foot of the stairs, they stopped, fully visible to the entire ballroom from the slight elevation, politely greeted by Professor Slughorn with a neat bow. 

“Tonight we have gathered to witness the reaffirmation of the marriage bond between Lucius Malfoy and Narcissa Malfoy. There will be no magic, no ceremony —” He flicked the tip of his wand toward the couple, revealing a bright flare of magic around the hands that bore their wedding rings. “— As you can see it is unneeded. The couple have revisited their vows and would like to recite them before we all join them in a celebratory feast.” He stepped to one side, gesturing to the couple as they turned to face each other. “Lucius?”

“Narcissa, light of my life,” he began, eyes already shining with tears. “When we wed, I promised that I would protect you. That you would never go wanting so long as it was in my power to provide. That I would make a respectable place in the world for any children we might have. I promised that I would remain faithful.” 

He took a pause and a shaking breath Pansy could hear from ten feet away. “I have failed in almost all of these vows. My actions have seen you hurt. What we had I gave to others while you were wanting, and I squandered all the good will of my family name. It is only through your courage and your perseverance that we have come through my lifetime of selfishness so intact. You have always been better than me, in almost every way, and you are certainly better than I deserve, but I can promise you there is one vow I have never broken.” 

Lucius took Narcissa's hand in his, raising it to his lips and gently placing a kiss on the back of her pale hand. “There has never been a day of our marriage when I didn't love you, and there never will be. I have loved you more than I ever could have hoped when our families brought us together, and I plan to spend the rest of my life loving you more each passing day.”

Pansy felt tears shimmering in her eyes as Lucius finished his speech. She didn’t know if it was losing the war, or his imprisonment, or both, but something had changed the wizard. He had always loved his wife, but to see him admit his wrongs, so candidly and so publicly, was bordering on miraculous to Pansy. 

“Lucius,” Narcissa began almost as soon as her husband had finished. “We have endured our share of pain and loss. Early in our marriage, I thought that I might perish from my desperation to prove myself to you, to be worthy of my place here in this manor.” Her voice was deep and crisp as ever, but Pansy could hear a faint warble that betrayed a tremble in her chin. 

“I promised to give you all of my life, but I let my fears of exclusion take so much from us, nothing so much as the privilege of a true partnership. I silenced my own opinions in the face of outsiders and those on the fringes of our family.” She took a deep steadying breath. “It was a disservice to you, to not trust that your love was as true as mine when you've never given me less than adoration.” She squeezed Lucius's hand in her own, giving him a kiss on the back of his hand that half landed on a large ring. “I'm happier now than I have ever been, and I vow that I will never again give you anything less than my whole self, and I will expect nothing less from you in return.”

“Beautiful sentiments from a beautiful couple. Now,” Professor Slughorn announced jovially, “seal the deal with a kiss.” 

Pansy looked back at Ginny as she clapped for the couple sharing a kiss filled with a warmth and passion that belied their chilly personas. Tears were streaming down her face. Her body stayed stock still as she cried, the rivulets pooling down her face and neck to stain the front of her bodice without releasing a single sob or even raising a hand to wipe her eyes. 

“Ginny?” 

“This is what I want,” the other witch whispered, as if it were a closely guarded secret.

_ Tears of happiness or appreciation, then,  _ Pansy thought, thankful that it wasn't some war trauma brought up by the Malfoys' mentions of their past crimes. 

“I thought you might like that they wrote their own vows,” Pansy said quietly, “and the mix of the formal aesthetic with the intimate gathering.” 

“That's not what I mean, Pansy,” Ginny replied, finally seeming to be able to tear her eyes away from Lucius and Narcissa as they broke their kiss and joined the table. “The wedding is beautiful, but what I want is a marriage like that.” 

Pansy found herself speechless. She remained that way all through the dinner that she'd obsessed over with Narcissa and the house elves for weeks. The pastry on the beef Wellington was perfectly buttery and flaky, not a bit doughy. The roasted asparagus and little potatoes were perfectly cooked and salted. She answered direct questions with her signature smile and clever quips but in the back of her mind she was stuck on the oddness of what Ginny had said. 

Why would she want the Malfoys' flawed, destructive marriage? 

That kind of dream was supposed to be for girls like Pansy, who did nothing but make mistakes and didn't know anyone else who really loved their spouse. Of course Pansy envied the consideration and obvious affection of the Malfoys'; her own parents couldn't stand each other. Narcissa and Lucius were the closest thing she'd ever seen to real romance that didn't end in a complete tragedy. That was why she'd wanted Ginny to see their renewal, stripped of all the themes, just the love at the center. She'd known it would feel real.

Ginny had a whole family full of loving couples. Pansy had met Molly and Arthur Weasley a time or two. They were desperately in love, even after more than thirty years of marriage. She had a brother who'd already been married seven years and seemed remarkably happy. 

Why would this be the marriage she wanted?

She couldn't help but notice she wasn't the only one going through the motions. Ginny talked to the guests around her much like Pansy, joking and rolling her eyes at Blaise as they whispered and replying politely when Narcissa engaged her about her upcoming nuptials. It was a convincing performance, and Pansy might have believed her easy cheeriness if she hadn't noticed that Ginny barely ate. She picked at her food until the dessert showed, at which point she scooped every bit of fluffy icing off her slice of cake, leaving the rest in a ragged heap on her plate. 

The banquet ended abruptly as the hosts declared they were ready for some dancing. 

Pansy and Ginny didn't talk as they stood back with the rest of the guests and watched as the banquet table and chairs vanished with a coordinated snap by the waiting house elves, leaving the dance floor clean and ready for the waltz that welled up from nowhere to echo around the cavernous room. 

Lucius and Narcissa were a sight to behold as they made their way across the ballroom in their first dance. They truly were a beautiful couple, like a set of glittering jewels perfectly set. They moved like a single entity, backs straight and hands intertwined elegantly. It could have been stiff, too formal, except for the stunning smiles on their faces, their gazes never drifting from each other for the entirety of their waltz. 

“Pansy,” Blaise's voice was honeyed and polite as ever as he bowed and offered Pansy one outstretched hand in invitation. “For tradition's sake?”

“Go ahead,” Ginny said, her smile not quite reaching her eyes as she pointed to the corner where Narcissa and Lucius had stepped away to allow their guests to have run of the floor for a bit. “I want to go wish Narcissa well.” 

Dancing with Blaise felt as natural as walking. Pansy had done it so many times nothing he did really surprised her anymore: a sharper dip than needed every few turns around the floor; spinning her out playfully from his body in a complete interruption of the steps; pulling her in close so that she could feel the heat of his body through her bodice. She didn't really need to pay attention to him at all and her attention wandered over his shoulder to Ginny.

_ Spin. _

There she was, talking to Narcissa, wearing that same beaming smile she plastered on for Harpies photos. 

_ Spin.  _

She looked out at the dancefloor and their eyes met for a moment, Ginny's smile faltering into a pinched, sad look before the turn forced Pansy's gaze away. 

_ Spin.  _

She was gone. 

Pansy scanned the crowd for the rest of the waltz, which seemed to go on so long that she wondered if some Unspeakable had tinkered with time. No matter where she looked she couldn't find the spot of copper among the crowd that was Ginny. 

“You're distracted tonight,” Blaise said as the dance came to an end and he gave her a loose bow. 

“Sorry, I'm working tonight,” Pansy mumbled.“The Potter wedding will seal my business for the next twenty years if I play my cards right.” 

“Sure, Pansy,” he replied, shaking his head. “Find me if you decide you don't want to go home alone tonight.” 

Pansy didn't dignify that with an answer before making her way through the crowd to Narcissa.

“Pansy, darling.” The older witch greeted her, placing cool dry kisses on either side of Pansy's face that left a faint smell of roses, eyes narrowed and curious as she spoke. “I just spoke to the future Miss Potter. She had to run off a little early I'm afraid, seemed to be having a bit of stomach trouble. Are you certain they aren't going to want to move up that wedding date?” 

“She's not expecting,” Pansy assured her. It hadn't been that long since she'd seen Ginny nearly nude. If she was pregnant, it was a very new development, and Pansy certainly wouldn't be spreading that rumor. Especially seeing as she didn't buy the excuse of a sour stomach for a minute. There had been something off with Ginny all through dinner. “So she just left?” 

“Actually, she told me to give you her apologies, and to let you know that she liked our décor and would like something similar. She was very complimentary and said that she would owl you in the morning.” 

That was it, then. She'd managed to secure just the right tone for the wedding and she had the rest of the evening to herself. Pansy knew that she should have been happy about it; by all rights she'd had a truly wonderful evening. Months of work had finally come to and end, and the odds had fallen in her favor. She had a last ditch offer for companionship for the night that would leave her satisfied, regardless how much she loathed to admit it. 

So why did it feel like something was missing?

“Thank you for delivering the message, Narcissa,” Pansy finally replied, shaking off the sense of disquiet and looping her arm through the other witch's at the elbow and enjoying the sneaky smile that spread across her friend's face when she said, “Now, let's get it out of the way who are you going to try and set me up with tonight.” 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I do not own the characters or setting, I simply play with them. 
> 
> A ginormous thanks to my beta granger_danger for their help on this chapter! As always it wouldn't be half as good without you!
> 
> We are closing in on the end y'all and I'm getting emotional about it!

_ Pansy,  _

_ The Malfoy Vow Renewal was perfect. I told Narcissa to tell you it's what I want but I don't know if she did.  _

_ Harry talked to McGonagall and we are on to use the Great Hall at Hogwarts. I think that should give you plenty of space to decorate.  _

_ I don't have much opinion except I liked the Malfoys’ décor. Not too crowded, plenty of shine from all the silver. I would like some more color. I think green would be a nice accent with Harry's eyes and my hair color. Nothing too Slytherin though, or I'll never hear the end of it.  _

_ I will be on the road with the Harpies for the next two months so don't expect me to be able to make meetings. We'll just have to do the details by owl.  _

_ I hope you enjoyed the rest of the dancing. You and Blaise look good together.  _

_ Ginny  _

* * *

_ Ginny,  _

_ I'm glad you've settled on inspiration. I can definitely stick with a similar theme to what I gave Narcissa. I think that you are right about green, it will be a good accent for both of you and it will avoid most of the Halloween associations considering the time of year. A holiday wedding can be done well, but at Hogwarts it would probably remind most of your guests of a school feast if we put out too many pumpkins.  _

_ Slytherin green and the team green for the Harpies are very similar so it's good to avoid anything dark, I think.  _

_ We should pull our greens from the floral arrangements. I want to bring in eucalyptus near the candles— it will perfume the whole hall. It has a bit of blue to it, a frostiness. I included a twig from my preferred species; Let me know what you think.  _

_ I didn't stay much longer at the Malfoys’, actually. Blaise is a passable dance partner but he remains, as always, my back-up choice. I didn't feel like settling, so I headed home and had a lovely late evening catching up on my reading.  _

_ Pansy _

* * *

_ Pansy, _

_ The Eucalyptus is lovely. Yes, let’s go with that cool, bluish green. Keep any flowers white — I don't want the color taking over the pops of our green. Next to the silver it is going to be very subtle already. _

_ Luckily, my mother doesn't hate the idea. I've been trying to sell the wedding to her. She's still awfully sore over not having it at the Burrow and me not using her dress but she likes the idea that we will be at Hogwarts, which I'm frankly surprised about, considering everything. Harry had to do a fair share of convincing me, if I'm honest. I thought it would be too morbid, but I trust you can make the Great Hall look nothing like a makeshift infirmary.  _

_ The point is that she's tickled about the idea of the florals being so heavily scented.  _

_ Leaving a party early to go read??? Now you're starting to sound like Hermione! _

_ Ginny  _

* * *

_ Ginny,  _

_ If I'm starting to sound like Hermione, then you're starting to sound like me. Worried about overpowering your accent color?  _

_ Finally staking out some opinions about your wedding! I like it.  _

_ Yes, it's going to be subtle, and I think you are right that we need to stick not just to white flowers, but to flowers with an icy cast. No creams or ivories. Luckily, being witches, we can assure that fairly easily.  _

_ Baby's breath is perfect for filler, roses are classics, but I think gardenia is prettier, a few sprigs of lily of the valley to add some drama to your bouquet. I'm sending some sketches of what I have planned for the space in general and some detail for the floral arrangements in particular. Let me know what you think.  _

_ I'm glad that your mother is pleased, but try to remember that this wedding isn't hers, it's yours. Don't act like a bitch to your mother, I need it on the record that I've said that, but don't let her cut you down or undermine your ideas or preferences. It is not a matter of who is right and who is wrong, it is a matter of what suits you and Harry.  _

_ I'm here to keep you from making any unsightly mistakes so don't let her convince you it's a bad idea if you've discussed it with me. _

_ Pansy _

* * *

_ Pansy, _

_ Well I'm glad I have you here or I might’ve decided to do everything in red and gold or something else terribly garish like having a miniature Quidditch match run wild in a pub afterwards. I hope you can sense how hard my eyes are rolling from across the channel. I'm writing this at breakfast, did you get a headache right around seven this morning?  _

_ I like everything you sent except for the mirrors lining the far wall. I don't want to look at myself that much, no matter how much I like the dress. You can keep the ones under the candles and flowers though, that is very elegant.  _

_ I don't know what we are going to do about the food. Mum is insisting on making the cake, and I just want her to relax for once in her life. I don't think I can handle her running around trying to transport a cake all the way to the castle without knocking it over. It has to feed over a hundred people. She'd be working for days unless she uses so much magic it ruins the taste.  _

_ I wish she'd realize that we have a whole fleet of house elves at our disposal at the castle and that we don't need her to do this. She can just enjoy herself.  _

_ I'll talk to you about it at the final dress fitting next week. _

_ Ginny  _

* * *

By the time of the final dress fitting, Pansy hadn’t seen Ginny in three months.

Letters might have been enough for selecting color schemes and designing centerpieces, but the dress was another matter. Ginny had suggested that it had fit well enough when she'd tried it on, but Pansy refused to allow her to cancel the appointment, knowing how much three months of vigorous training and pub food could change the body. She didn't intend to let Ginny's arms bust through the delicate lace sleeves because they hadn’t assured the fit. 

Coming in for a final dress fitting was a different experience than the original shopping. The store was trying less to impress now that they'd already secured the bride's purchase, so there was no waiting for Ginny in the light, airy salon; Pansy was taken back immediately to a smaller, all together less impressive fitting room. At least she could find comfort in the fact that she clearly still had the respect of the store owner, as they weren't shunted off into one of the rooms with curtains in place of doors, the existence of which Pansy found incredibly tacky. Still, the room was unbearably small, and she had difficulty finding any spot to sit in the room in which she wasn't reflected by the three panel mirror. Pansy liked to look at herself as much as the next person, but next to Ginny's dress, already hanging from a hook on one wall, she looked stiff and matronly in her trousers and her black and white, high-necked silk blouse. 

After not seeing Ginny for so many months, it galled Pansy to meet her again feeling less than stellar, with her hair limp and her face washed out by the fluorescent lighting, more intended to ease the burden on the elderly Russian woman who would come in to mark any final changes than to flatter the customers. In a moment of annoyance she conjured her favorite tube of lipstick, a dark crimson she'd bought in a Muggle druggist for a bride who'd suddenly decided she thought a beauty charm made her lips look false. Pansy had found she couldn't help but agree. The shiny red in the tube made her lips look touchable, and a hint of magic could improve the wear drastically. 

The door creaked open behind her as she finished defining the deep V of her Cupid’s bow. 

“Primping just for me, Pansy?” Ginny said, her gaze meeting Pansy's in the mirror, her face drawn and tired despite her teasing tone. 

“For me, mostly,” Pansy replied, snapping the cap on and banishing the tube back to her vanity at home as she turned around. “But you'll reap the benefits all the same.” 

Ginny's laugh was loud and brash as ever as she immediately piled a bag and her denim jacket into one of the chairs shoved into the corner of the room. 

The tiny grandmother who did the shop’s adjustments came in just behind Ginny. She did a quick once over of the dress on the hanger and warned them that she would be back in fifteen minutes. Pansy knew better than to leave her waiting. 

“Best to do as she says,” Pansy teased, making her way over to the dress rack. “Marta means business and she doesn't take well to being ignored.” 

“Sounds familiar.” Ginny scoffed. 

Her voice was so bitter that Pansy couldn't help but glance over to where Ginny was stripping down to her knickers. Every movement of her limbs was jerky and full of misplaced anger. It wasn't hard to see that, while she was doing a valiant job of keeping it together, she was seething, and it had nothing to do with the sweet elderly woman who just wanted to move her day along. 

“Sickle for your thoughts?” Pansy asked as she busied herself removing the dress from the rack, carefully shifting the delicate fabric off its satin hanger. 

“It's my mum _ — _ ” Ginny sighed dramatically before adding softly, “Sort of.” She didn't continue for a moment, and the room was so silent Pansy could almost picture the other witch's fraught stillness despite having her back to the room. “I told you about her plan to cook this huge cake for the wedding?” 

“You mentioned it.” 

“Well, let me paint a picture for you.” Ginny came to stand nearby, the triple mirror behind her reflecting endless repetitions of her naked back, making Pansy press her thighs together against an uncomfortable wave of desire. “This cake: it has to feed over a hundred people. It's got six tiers. And she's insisting it has to be frosting between the layers, even though I prefer jam _ — _ ” Ginny stopped herself from continuing, her jaw clenched tightly. “The point is that it's just another complication to this fucking day that we don't need, and every time I tell her I'd rather just have the house elves at the castle make the cake, she is so offended.”

“Does she think you are insulting her cooking?” Pansy asked as she carefully undid the last few buttons on the gown, unable to fathom the idea that anyone would turn down the Hogwarts elves’ cooking. 

“No, she just 'feels like I'm cutting her out of my wedding',” Ginny huffed in a comical imitation of her mother's outrage. “But I'm not! I just want her to be there for me on this huge day, and she refuses to understand that, no matter how much I explain it to her.” Ginny's face was twisted with barely contained emotion as she lifted her arms over her head so that Pansy could float the dress up and over her. “The worst thing, though, is that Harry has sided with her. So now it doesn't matter what I want.”

“What?” Pansy stepped behind Ginny to do up the long line of buttons on the back of the dress. 

“Harry, in all his moral superiority and selflessness, has decided that we just have to give into Mum because the fight is too much of a strain on things.” Pansy could see from the tremble in the other witch's lips that, while the conflict with her mother was real, this was what was really bothering her. “And since I 'got to be unreasonable' about not wanting to have the wedding at the Burrow, I evidently 'owe him this'.” Ginny’s tone bordered on mocking. “I've tried to tell him I need to be able to count on my Mum on my wedding day. That I don't want to have to run her down if I need her. I want her to be with me.” 

Pansy raised her gaze from the tiny buttons to the mirror where she found Ginny staring directly at her face, her eyes full of indignant rage. 

“You know what he said?”

Pansy shook her head, unwilling to venture a guess. 

“He said 'that would be a first' like I'm some sort of horrible monster who hates her own mum just because I don't floo as often as I should.” 

Ginny almost choked on the words and the sound felt like a vice squeezed round Pansy's heart. 

“We got in this nasty row like you wouldn't believe. I screamed at him not to take his mommy issues out on me, and Merlin knows that was a low blow  _ — _ you don't ever get to bring up someone's dead mother. He called me a bitch and I couldn't even blame him.” The wave of emotion that had welled up in Ginny seemed to deflate as she came to the end of her story, her shoulders sagging as Pansy did up the last buttons on the dress. “So now I guess mum is making the cake, because I said the thing I shouldn't and he wins by default.”

Marta suddenly bustled into the room with her handfuls of pins and began to take her measurements. She worked in silence except for the occasional mutter to herself in some indecipherable Russian dialect as she carefully looked over every inch of the dress, making a few small adjustments around the shoulders and double-checking the hem against Ginny’s wedding shoes. 

Pansy watched Ginny's reflection the whole time the little woman worked. She looked straight into her own face in the mirror, and her expression said she didn't like what she saw. Her face remained pinched, jaw clenched so tightly that Pansy's teeth hurt in sympathy. 

Marta left without a word to either of them, as if she could sense the tension in the room and had decided to leave them alone. She closed the door behind her with a firm pull.

Ginny didn't move, eyes still trained on her reflection, emotions mingling on her face until Pansy wasn't certain if she was seeing grief or guilt. 

“He was the only one I ever wanted, Pansy, but I think he just settled for me, because I was there, and I have this built-in family he already loves and it seemed easy _ — _ ” She took a deep, shuddering breath. “But now he's realizing  _ I'm _ not easy. I'm _ difficult, _ and I'm afraid he is going to resent me for it for the rest of our lives. I can't even yell back at him. I don't want to be just another shitty thing he has to go through, so I just sit there and take it.”

Pansy had never hated Harry Potter so much, and that was saying something. She hadn't hated him like this when he was the focus of Draco's attention, constantly interrupting whatever budding romance she had imagined between them. She hadn't even hated him this much when she believed that he was going to let Voldemort slaughter them all to save his own skin. But watching Ginny shrink in on herself and minimize her own needs so that she could keep the peace, Pansy felt all at once like she could strangle him to death herself. 

“Just say it, Pansy,” Ginny muttered, turning around to face Pansy, her face still pulled into that worn down, defeated expression. “I can see you biting your tongue from all the way over here.” 

“I think that you deserve more than someone who  _ tolerates _ you,” Pansy replied, her emotions pushing the words out so quickly that she couldn't censor them. “You deserve someone who puts you first, someone who wants you to have what you want and for you to be happy more than they want to make other people happy.” She knew that she should shut up, but she couldn't, because she meant every word. It was as if they had been simmering for months waiting to come out. “You said he makes you feel like loving you is too much work, and you of all people shouldn't ever feel that way. You're exceptional.” 

“I'm not. I'm reckless and petty and selfish.” 

“So what? You're fearless, and you have high standards, and you don't take anyone's shit.” Pansy reached out and grabbed Ginny's hand, the other witch's pulse beating quickly against her fingertips as they pressed firmly around her wrist, the already small room seeming to narrow into nothing but the scant space between Ginny's body and hers. “He's lucky to have you, and if he doesn't see that, you should walk away. Because real love sees your flaws and loves you anyway, it doesn't try to put you in a box you don't fit in.” 

“How's that philosophy working out for you, Pansy?” Ginny asked, lashing out so obviously Pansy almost wanted to laugh as the other witch jerked her hand back. 

“Pretty well. I'm not stuck being someone's broodmare,” Pansy replied, trying not to think that it had been going better five minutes before, when she hadn't for some reason felt the need to interfere in a client's relationship. “I like my life. I'm not afraid of being alone.” 

“Lucky you.”

“So what are you going to do? Marry him and be unhappy for the rest of your life?” Pansy asked, knowing she was pushing things too far, but unable to fight back her distaste at the shame on Ginny's face. “Well, if you're that scared of being alone, you’d better become a drunk so you'll at least have the courage to kiss someone who actually makes you feel something!” 

Ginny closed the gap between them so quickly that Pansy was gasping as their lips met. It was nothing like the soft, slow, drunken kiss stolen under the stairs at the Leaky. It felt like a statement, a last minute grab at freedom. The other witch's mouth was hard against hers, the point of her chin urging Pansy to tilt her head back to expose her throat as Ginny walked her back against the fitting room door. Her hands moved sensuously down the silky fabric of Pansy's sleeves, grabbing her wrists and dragging her hands up over her head. 

“Please don't make me stop,” Ginny whispered against Pansy's neck, as she released Pansy's hands, leaving them over her head, and trailed her own shaking hands down to the button-fly of Pansy's high-waisted trousers. 

Pansy wouldn't dare stop her, even if she could form sentences. 

“I've wanted this so bad, Pansy.” Ginny's words were half muffled into the soft skin where Pansy's jaw and ear met. “Since the day I walked into your office and you gave me that look, like I was a pleasant surprise.” 

She dragged the cloth down off Pansy's hips and gave a groan of frustration as Pansy's thighs stayed locked stiffly together, her pumps an impediment to sliding off the cigarette style trousers. 

“Use your wand, just slice them,” Pansy said, her voice breathy to her own ears. “I can mend it.” 

Ginny held the tip of her wand against the center seam and the fabric split in two so that she could peel it off Pansy's legs, leaving her leaning against the wall in nothing but her shirt and her black lace knickers. Ginny's fingers inched under the hem of her shirt. 

“Can I just _ — _ ” Ginny's voice hitched as her fingers lifted away the delicate fabric of the knickers where they lay against Pansy's abdomen, the smooth lacquer of her nails grazing the skin and making the muscles there jump, ticklish with anticipation. “I'll stop if you want, but please, Pansy, just let me touch you.” 

Witty double entendre, even basic confirmation escaped Pansy. She could only respond by nodding, half-stifled, needy noises coming from deep in her throat, the pitch rising as Ginny's hand pushed into her knickers. Two fingers slipped just between the lips of her cunt to brush lightly against her clit, desperately sensitive from her squirming earlier as Ginny changed. 

“Merlin, you're already wet,” Ginny panted, the diaphanous skirts of her gown rustling against Pansy's bare legs as Ginny pressed her body in close to one side, her breath hot on Pansy's neck. “I wondered if you wanted me, too. It felt like you did when I kissed you before, but you were a little tipsy. I guess I have my answer now.” 

Ginny planted a warm kiss just behind Pansy's ear, the cradle of her hips rocking gently against Pansy's thigh as her fingers began to rub light circles on Pansy's clit. With every pass of Ginny's fingertips Pansy felt the heavy, delicious pleasure growing between her legs, her stomach muscles tightening and pulling her hips forward against Ginny's hand. Normally she needed something inside of her to feel this out of control, fingers or a cock for her inner muscles to clench around, but the months of wanting and anticipation and denial seemed to rush forward in a great rush of need, making Pansy's thighs shake as she climbed closer to the peak, sooner than she wanted to, wishing she could stop her body from reaching for it so that she could hold onto the slick, indulgent friction of Ginny's calloused fingertips for just a little longer. 

Ginny's other hand tangled into the hair at the nape of her neck, urging her into another searing kiss, Ginny's hot, panting breath mingling with hers as another featherlight circle caused her hips to arch up as if pulled by an invisible string. That heavy pleasure between her hips spilling over as her cunt started to clench around nothing; her clit pulsed in time with the deep bass thump of her rapid heartbeat and a strained, broken moan spilled into Ginny's mouth and her arms fell from where they'd been placed above her head, shaking, hands clenching at Ginny's shoulders. Pansy was so lost she almost missed the pleased hum that came from the other woman as she pulled her hand out of Pansy's knickers, turning so that she was flush against the door next to Pansy and bringing her fingertips to her mouth, pressing one slick pad against her tongue. 

“How long do we have until they come to kick us out of here?” She asked after a moment.

“They won't bother us,” Pansy managed to say through the knot of conflicting emotions that seemed to have settled in her chest and swelled with the hollow sound of Ginny's voice. “I bring in too much business.” 

The silence was oppressive as they sat shoulder to shoulder, the faint sounds of the shop filtering down the long hallway to their room and mixing with the quiet huffing of their heavy breaths. Pansy couldn't be sure how long they sat there, other than it was long enough for her damp knickers to become uncomfortable and the reality of what they'd just done to set in. 

Ginny got up with a sigh after a few moments, hitching her wedding gown up around her hips to protect the fragile fabric. 

“Come undo me.” 

Pansy had never felt so clumsy as she did unfastening the gown so that Ginny could step out of it. Her fingers fumbled with the clasps and she tugged so hard she felt the fabric straining, near to ripping. The other witch remained silent, pulling on her street clothes while Pansy hung the dress back on the rack with careful reverence, her own trousers still in a heap of ruined fabric on the floor. 

“I'm not apologizing this time, Pansy,” Ginny whispered as she pulled on her denim jacket and fished her wand out of the pocket. 

“I wouldn't want you to,” Pansy admitted, eyes embarrassingly drawn to the press of Ginny's nipple against her tee shirt, hard and unmistakable. She wished that Ginny wouldn't have put her clothes back on. She wanted to take the pebbled pink skin into her mouth. 

“I'm glad,” Ginny replied and the halting softness of her voice drew Pansy's gaze to her face. Her cheeks were wet with tears, but a small smile tugged at the edges of her lips. “I'll see you at the wedding.” 

She was gone with a sharp crack of apparition, leaving Pansy alone in the room with the dress, her guilt, and the task of making their excuses. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all we've gotten to the last chapter *cries uncontrollably* 
> 
> There's only a very short epilogue left now and I'm posting it right after this. . . so I probably won't leave a note on that at all. I just want to say, I think I have learned more about the nitty gritty of writing from this piece than anything else I have ever written and I really loved writing it. I hope that you have enjoyed reading it and will come back for more when I get around to doing more Pansy/Ginny in the future because I think they are a wonderful and neglected pairing. 
> 
> A lot of what made it so wonderful to write is granger_danger coming on to do the beta work half way through. I cannot express how much they eased me through it and how much better the whole thing is because of their help. Thank you friend for all your time, effort and support. 
> 
> I don't own the universe, I just practice here, but the person who does own it is a TERF and frankly I don't care about anything she has to say. *this is me giving Jo Rowling the bird*

Pansy didn't have time to feel guilty. 

She made sure of it. 

The last week and a half leading up to the Potter wedding was a whirlwind of early mornings and late nights. Every moment was filled with some kind of distraction: wrangling bridesmaids to her office for any last minute large adjustments; getting Molly Weasley to give her an accurate flavor profile for the cake so she could adjust the champagne order if needed; putting together centerpieces to be transported to the Great Hall the day of the event; and finalizing the Ministry official. The list went on and on and not for the first time Pansy was desperately grateful for the frantic pace of crunch time. 

The last forty-eight hours were a particularly heinous kind of chaos. 

There was something profane about removing the four tables from the Great Hall. Headmaster McGonagall helped with that; between her, Pansy, and Lavender they were able to shrink the ancient slabs of wood that had soaked up centuries of magic from rowdy students with barely controlled power. They were stored safely away in an empty classroom. 

All the empty classrooms turned out to be a wonderful selling point for the castle as a venue. Most of the classrooms closest to the hall were in regular use, but a few staircases and turns away there were entire hallways that were rarely used for anything but quiet studying and snogging. Pansy could use them as needed for storage and putting together the dressing rooms. 

She put everyone in one long corridor. The first two small rooms she connected for Harry, his groomsman and the other Weasley men to use, transfiguring mirrors, tables, chairs and wardrobes out of the remaining rickety desks until the room was more than serviceable. The final three rooms at the end of the hall had at one point been used for an Alchemy class, and Pansy took advantage of the way the rooms opened onto each other to craft a bridal chamber for Ginny and her bridesmaid to use, as well as a side chamber for the Weasley women to get ready as needed. 

If the groom's rooms had been serviceable, then the bride’s were truly lovely. Pansy didn't just transfigure furniture, she designed it. Every piece of transfigured furniture was in crisp shades of white, and she brought in comfortable blankets and pillows in the frosty eucalyptus green they'd settled on for the wedding's accent color. She summoned lights to the lamps in a softer, pinker shade than the flickering yellow candle light the castle was famous for and suddenly the room was a deluxe suite. 

It was a perfect match to the Great Hall. 

She had arranged the simple round white bistro tables around the room in groupings that sat at a slight angle to the raised platform where the professors normally ate. There were no real his or hers sides because they shared nearly all their friends, so the seating was all to one side of the hall, leaving a long narrow aisle defined by floral arrangements on the floor, with the dance floor on the other side, in front of the bank of windows. Every table was canted just so, to ensure that their eyes would be drawn to the bride as she walked the aisle while still having a decent view of the altar. 

Gardenia and eucalyptus scented the room, astringent and heady as the stems were warmed by the candles. The fragrance came not just from the dainty mirrored centerpieces, but also from the arch Professor McGonagall had helped her transfigure from the professors’ table, dripping with flowers and a few strategically placed hand mirrors that Pansy had donated from her own personal collection of antiques. 

It was beautiful, and when it was all just right and the family had started to filter into the room, Pansy thought that she might have outdone herself. This was good work, something to be proud of.

She wanted to tear it all to shreds. 

Every carefully chosen piece of decor reminded her of some moment she'd spent planning with Ginny. Dry jokes from her letters would pop into Pansy's mind as she tried to arrange things to the perfect level of casual elegance. The smell of gardenias was overwhelming, decadent, like the scent of shampoo and sweat that lingered behind Ginny's ear. 

It was hard to remember ever having been so thoroughly miserable as she was right now. Not even the last time she'd been in this castle compared. Everything had been so messed up by the time of the final battle, Pansy would have been grateful for any outcome, even if she did have a preference for any scenario that left her alive. Now was different. Now she _wanted_ something, deep down and so intensely that the envy sat like a coal just behind her navel, threatening to slowly burn its way out and leave her guts spilled for the world to see.

Wanting Ginny was torture, but the idea that everyone would see how pathetically desperate Pansy was, that was unbearable. So she tamped it down and put her energy into the work, and pretended she wasn't on the verge of running off into the forest, never to be seen again. 

Avoiding Ginny had been surprisingly easy. There had been a brief meeting of their eyes when Pansy had led the women into the dressing suite, but other than that nauseating moment of repressed longing she hadn't seen her all day. The bride had no reason to leave the dressing rooms as she got ready and bonded with the women of her family; There was no reason for a wedding planner to be in there with them, even if Pansy normally would have checked in a few times throughout the day. 

The easy avoidance was over now, though. Every one of Ginny’s brothers’ wives was seated at their assigned table and the checklist on her clipboard said it was time for Pansy to head up and do her final roundup of the wedding party.

As she turned a corner on the massive staircases heading up to the classrooms housing the bride and groom, she ran smack into another body hurtling down, knocking her to the side and into the wall.

She almost wanted to hold onto her momentary anger at the rudeness, but of course Ron Weasley stopped to apologize and help her. A lot could be said about the man, but he tried his best to be courteous. She could remember that much from the one night they had spent together years ago. Now he pulled her to her back to her feet and steadied her again, his large hands spanning her waist. She remembered back to that night they'd spent together and wondered for a moment if this was another wedding where they'd be left to work out their frustrations on each other. But meeting his eyes, it was clear that wasn't likely to happen.

He'd been crying, more like sobbing from the bright red, dripping state of his nose, and he didn't linger. As soon as she was sure on her feet, one hand braced against the wall, he turned again and ran down the stairs so quickly Pansy didn't even have time to ask him where he thought he was going so close to the ceremony, leaving her to finish her trek up the stairs alone.

She checked in on Harry first, curious about what might have sent Ron running from him on such an important day. 

Harry didn't look good. 

His hair, always an uncivilized mess, was wilder than ever, as if he had just been dragging his fingers through it. He was sitting on the floor in front of an overturned table, his face as red as Ron's had been, tears still falling freely down his face. 

“Harry,” Pansy prodded when he didn't notice that she'd opened and shut the door. “Everything okay?” 

“Sorry,” He muttered, wiping his nose on the expensive jacket of his suit. “Just an emotional day.” 

“Yeah, weddings can be like that.” Pansy agreed, keeping her voice soft so that she wouldn't spook him and coming around in front of him and sitting back on her heels. “Does this have anything to do with why your best man just mowed me down on the staircase?” 

Harry's face shut down, the emotion that had just been plain as day there swept away under a tense mask that screamed 'Look at me! I have a secret'. 

“So that's a yes, then,” Pansy remarked, resting her arms on her knees to maintain her balance. “I can go get him, hex him until he drags his ass back up here?” 

“Don't bother. Ron does this sometimes, runs off. He'll come back,” Harry paused, the mask of indifference he tried to hold failing as his face twisted with bitter anguish. “He always does, probably more quickly when he knows he shouldn't. . .” There was a story there, but Pansy wasn't going to pry. She had her own secrets, after all. “I could use your help though.” 

“Whatever you need. That's my job.” 

“I need you to check in on Ginny. She tossed Hermione out, guess I better go find her, too. I know where she likes to hide.” Pansy wondered if it was in the girls’ loo; for some reason the girl had always chosen to do her crying in there when they were in school. One of the only neutral encounters they'd had then had been Pansy passing some toilet tissue to her in the back stall on the second floor. “The point is, Ginny was asking for her Mum, but Molly is busy with the cake, and she really likes you. She talks about you loads and you've been so helpful to her with the planning. I think that you'd have a good chance of helping her calm down.” 

“She's my next stop.”

“Fantastic.” He stood and offered Pansy a hand to keep her steady as she lifted out of her uncomfortable crouch before crossing to the door. He paused before leaving and asked, “Pansy, do you think I'm going to make her happy?” 

“She loves you.” Pansy whispered the bitter assurance through gritted teeth, not making eye contact and secretly wishing that she was as selfish as people thought her. 

If she were then she could open her mouth and let Harry know just how precarious a start his marriage was getting, and finally tell someone, anyone, that she couldn't stop thinking about the way his bride's calloused fingertips felt on her skin. 

“I love her too.” Harry said, and Pansy couldn't doubt it as she looked into his bright green eyes, still shining with tears and full of sentiment. “But that isn't always enough, is it? I was so excited when we first got engaged, like our lives were finally starting to fall into place, we were going to be a family. . .” 

Pansy could imagine. They'd seemed to be genuinely happy just after the war. Well, as happy as any of them could be. They'd clung together in the photos she'd seen of them in the paper, and as the other victory match-ups fizzled out, they only seemed to grow closer together. 

“We've never fought so much as we have the last year. The only time we didn't fight was when she was on the road, and I was so relieved that she was gone. At least we weren't shouting at each other, and I'm bloody terrified that we're making the biggest mistake of our lives.” He continued, one hand on the door, gripping so tight his knuckles were mottled pink and white. “I'd rather call the whole thing off than hurt her, Pansy.” 

She couldn't blame him for that.

“Look Potter.” Pansy kept her voice more firm and confident than she felt as she smoothed her skirt and joined him at the door. “Have you ever known your fiancée to do something she didn't want to?”

“No, I guess not. Not without a really good reason at least.”

“Then there is your answer.” Pansy pushed down her own feelings and did her best to alleviate his worries, even though every word made her feel like she was going to choke. “If she's doing it, then it's what she wants. Now—” She stepped past him and through the door, turning to face him with her clipboard held stiffly in front of her, boss lady persona in full force now that she was no longer trapped in the room with him and his emotions. “I'm going to go sort things out. Can you get yourself together?”

“Yeah.” 

It wasn't convincing but it would have to do.

“Good,” she said with a sharp nod. “Because you've got to be at that altar in twenty minutes. I suggest you do it quick and go find your groomsman, as I'll be getting your bride where she needs to be.” She was halfway down the hall before she thought to shout. “Lavender is in the Entrance Hall and she knows the plan if you need any help.” 

The room to the bridal dressing suite she'd created was standing open but Ginny had ended the spells opening the classrooms onto one another, shutting herself to one side behind a heavy wooden door. Pansy was not surprised to find it warded, but she knew enough tricks on that point to get through it in a few minutes, the magic tingling in her fingers as she probed it and looked for the right point of entry. She was surprised to find that, once she'd broken through, the door was unlocked, swinging open easily at the touch of her hand. 

“Ginny?” Pansy closed the door behind her, watching as the bride turned around to face her. The moment lingered as she waited for that familiar, beautiful face to come into view. 

Ginny looked exactly like she had the last time they had seen each other. She was in her dress, now perfectly fitted, with her hair done in shining copper waves, but her face was pinched with worry and frustration. The freckles stood out against her pale skin in high relief and her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. That look made Pansy's chest ache and forced her to use up every ounce of backbone she possessed to not cross the abandoned classroom and kiss her so thoroughly that she forgot it was her wedding day.

“I don't want to do it, Pansy,” Ginny whispered, and the tears that had been sitting in her eyes started to fall down her face, her words coming forth in a rush. “I don't know what I'm doing here, there's all these people and they're expecting me to come out there and I don't want to do it.” Pansy hadn't even known the other witch's brash voice could sound so timid and meek. “I love Harry but if we get married I'm going to make the rest of our lives miserable because I don't want to do this.” 

Pansy had dealt with her fair share of jittery brides and grooms with cold feet. It wasn't abnormal to be nervous about a life-changing decision. She would argue most couples experienced some level of anxiety on the big day. Anyone would be worried about their ability to fulfill the promises that were made at the altar. 

This was different. This wasn't nerves or cold feet or jitters. 

Ginny was terrified. 

“Then you aren't doing it,” Pansy said firmly, pulling out her wand and sending Ginny's belongings zipping into a nearby open carpet bag with precise flicks of her wand. 

“What about all the hard work you put into it, Pansy?” Ginny asked as she watched her belongings zooming about the room, huddling on one of the overstuffed white ottomans Pansy had conjured, her bare feet sticking out from the lacy hem of her gown. “Merlin, you made me a fairytale wedding and I'm being so fucking ungrateful.” 

“Ginny, do you remember what you told me at Lucius and Narcissa's vow renewal?”

“Of course I do. I basically copied their style, I liked it so much.” 

“It wasn't the style you told me you wanted,” Pansy reminded her gently as the last of it flew into the bag and it snapped shut. “You told me that you wanted a marriage like theirs. My job is to give you what you want. I may not be able to make this marriage one that will lead to a lifetime of love and understanding, but I can damn well make sure you don't walk down the aisle when you don't want to.” 

Pansy pulled a beat up tube of lipstick out of her bag.

“This is a password-protected portkey.” She tossed it over to Ginny, who caught the tube with a practiced athelete's ease. “I had a special contact at the Ministry of Transportation make it for me years ago, just in case I ever had this situation with a client. You just have to be holding it while I say the right word, and it will take you to my office, where you can floo to wherever you like or run out to the apparition point in the lobby and go from there.” 

“What about Harry? I can't just leave him here.” 

The genuine concern in Ginny's face behind her relief made Pansy's chest hurt again. Why did this all have to be so goddamn tragic? Why couldn't one of them just be a terrible person? 

“I wouldn't normally tell a bride this, but seeing as you are running I think it's better that you know. . .” she said after a moment of consideration, hoping that she was making the right call by telling Ginny, “Harry was having second thoughts as well. I got him up and going again, but if I'm honest, something was going on with him beyond cold feet. I think you're making the right choice.” 

It always surprised Pansy how good it felt to tell the truth. Lying had never come easy, despite where she'd been sorted. It's why she'd never been able to stay in the closet, and pretending she thought that this couple should get married had been weighing her down more than she had realized. Now that she'd said it, she would believe she was floating if she didn't feel the hard press of the stone floor through the thin soles of her pumps.

“I think that he will be relieved and I can smooth everything else over. It will be fine.” 

“No.”

“No, what?” Pansy asked, her stomach dropping like it had just apparated without her.

“No, you aren't going to clean up this mess.” Ginny jumped off the ottoman and conjured a piece of paper, grabbing the pen off Pansy's clipboard and scribbling a note on it before sticking it firmly to the large mirror that stood facing the door.

It read: 

Harry, 

I can't do this. I don't think you really want to either. I will always love you, but not the way a wife should. 

I'm sorry, 

Ginny

“You're going to come with me.” Ginny turned Pansy's face away from the note, forcing their gazes together, her face so close the edges of her veil shifted against Pansy's hair. “Unless you'd really rather stay here and deal with my Mum and Harry?” 

Pansy tangled her fingers into Ginny's hair under the sheer veil and pulled her into a kiss. It was slow and gentle, her lips barely moving as she pressed their bodies together, relishing in the little gasp that escaped the other witch as she grazed her nails against her scalp. The cool metal of the lipstick tube pressed against the sensitive skin just under the edge of her top as Ginny's hands came to rest at the small of her back, pulling her hips closer. Pansy broke the kiss and whispered the word aesthetic against Ginny's slick lips, holding on tight as she felt the magic pull behind her navel. 


	8. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to granger_danger for their betaing (and lets be honest BETTERING) services. 
> 
> I don't own it, I just mess around, but I'd rather eat my own shoe than credit that TERF.

**2 years later**

Apparition didn't do any favors to Pansy's hair and she could feel the way her sleek bob had mussed around the crown, leaving flyaways that tickled her scalp as they were blown by the soft summer breeze. They could have flooed, which would have been a bit less jarring, but Pansy didn't fancy visiting the Burrow for the first time by stepping straight into Molly Weasley's kitchen. The witch might have finally forgiven her for her part in the embarrassment that was the last Weasley family wedding, but that didn't mean that Pansy was comfortable walking in on the woman while she had her wand pointed at a fleet of kitchen knives. 

Ginny's childhood home was exactly as it had been described to her. An overwhelming clash of color and texture; the whole patchwork house was slightly off-kilter, as if the whole thing was being held up purely by hope and determination. As they walked through the gate of the low-walled garden, they were surrounded by a riot of wild flowers, corncockles and primrose overflowed the flowerbeds on either side of the walk, and honeysuckle climbed over what seemed like every wall. The whole place smelled like the absolutely ginormous cake she could see under the large pavilion erected in the west end of the garden, mixed in with the sweet perfume of the flowers.

Pansy loved it. 

Ginny had been right. It wasn't the right place for her, not even back then, but not because she didn't belong. She almost blended in here. In her simple pink cotton dress, she became part of the scenery. Like one of the flowers. 

Ginny was too special to blend in. 

Most days, at least. Today Pansy could be glad for the Weasley camouflage. She'd even brought herself to wear something that wasn't black or green. Well, at least not just black, if you looked at the tiny floral print. Maybe she could blend in with the garden, too. That was the goal today. Don't draw attention. 

Ginny walked them through the small crowd to seats near the very front, next to her oldest brother, his wife, and their little girl. Pansy was relieved. Bill and Fleur had never held Ginny running off on her wedding against either of them. Fleur had even been the one to come find them afterwards, when they were living off bad room service in a Scottish hotel and waiting for the scandal to blow over. She’d brought Ginny the letter from Harry. The one that said thank you. If there was one set of family members that she'd be most comfortable among, it would be them. 

“I still can't believe they invited us,” Ginny leaned over and whispered as they got settled, one hand coming to lay in Pansy's lap where she fidgeted anxiously with a ruffled seam. 

“Of course they did, Gin,” Pansy assured her. Hermione caught her eye from the head of the aisle, looking positively political in one of her work suits as she waved and flashed a warm smile. She could be insufferable sometimes, but Pansy was sure the other witch was a big part of why her life had run so smoothly since she and Ginny had run off together. It was as if she considered their relationship a personal favor to her. So at some point in the last two years, they'd become friends. “Do you really think that Ron would have ever convinced him to finally come out of the closet if we hadn't ended up together? We basically paved their way.” 

“Probably not,” Ginny said, stifling a laugh. “God, how didn't I ever see it?” 

“You were too busy worrying about breaking his heart.” 

Music swelled from nowhere and everywhere, simple acoustic guitar with a lilting melody, and the grooms began their walk down the side aisles, just as Pansy had suggested. No one was being given away or presented. They were finally showing up for one another. It was lovely to watch. They were in simple white shirt sleeves and trousers. Comfortable, casual, easy: just like the two of them together. The happiness absolutely radiated off of both of them. As if they'd been waiting decades for this moment, and in many ways, Pansy supposed they had been. 

“We've come together today to celebrate the union of two men who've truly been through everything together,” Hermione began, her voice shaking with emotion as the men came to a stop in front of her, both of their eyes locked unwaveringly on the other's face. “When I look at Ron Weasley and Harry Potter, I don't just see my best friends. I see true love.” 

Pansy squeezed Ginny’s hand. She couldn't have agreed more. 


End file.
